Still Into You
by vaginawig
Summary: How do you just magically become more aware? Is there a pill for that? Does yoga help? Pfft, I mean, Kyla loves yoga and have you spoken to her? So not helping her with awareness... But still, how? And that's what brings me here, to this house, on this porch, in the middle of the night, staring at a long lost lover's door like a pathetic fool and twitching like a tweaker.
1. Prologue: Cheese-Dick Rock

**Pairing: **Spashley

**Rating: M - **Foul language, social awkwardness, and a mature emotional and physical relationship between two women are in this story. If you're underage, homophobic, or any of this is illegal for you to read in any way, please do not compromise me or the owners of this site by continuing further.

**Updating Practices: **If enough of you tell me that you want it consistently, I'll update consistently. That's a promise that I make to you as a reader because I respect your time and efforts, as well as to the forum owners who are kindly hosting this drib-drab for free. The reason that I'll stop posting if you stop communicating is because I want to grow as a writer. That's why I'm posting at all. Without that return on investment, it's not worth the enormous time and effort for me.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own South of Nowhere, its content, characters, or anything else that has to do with the show in any way. No infringement is intended. However, though I will use Tom Lynch's famous names, faces, and character flaws/traits, this story is entirely mine and cannot be used, posted, downloaded, or shared without my express, written consent.

**Author's Note:** This is not my first fic, though it's my first South of Nowhere. I have posted The L Word fic for about a year, thirteen novella length stories, but I've taken it down. I do not know how long I will leave this up if/when it's completed. Again, lots of these things depend on the readers. But, I'm hoping to find an outlet. Maybe this fandom can provide it. What am I looking for, specifically? Real feedback, honest and thoughtful criticism, and yes, some love. I've been around long enough that I don't require kid gloves. So please, be candid, and tell me what you did or didn't like, and if you encountered any issues with reading flow, storyline, or descriptions. Sometimes I can get too descriptive, so if I blundered, please tell me where and how.

I'll post chapter updates via twitter: vaginawig1. I can also be emailed through vaginawig at yahoo dot com. Sorry, but it won't actually allow me to put the email address the right way.

Here goes nothing...

* * *

**Prologue: Cheese-Dick Rock**

I suppose that it's taken me long enough to learn from all of the things that have happened in my life. Call it stubbornness, or maybe even pride, but I'm a late bloomer in all of the ways that matter, and far too ahead of the game in all of the ways that don't.

I always have been.

And it's a bad combination.

Apparently, when it matters, like _really_, _really_ matters, I have to learn the hard way, if at all.

Apparently, it's in my nature.

It's par the course for my life.

And what is the hard way, you ask?

Well, for me, it was making the same damn mistakes over and over... and over, again.

Redundant, I know, but circle of life and all that.

I did it so much that my life became a Godsmack album.

What?

Why are you staring at me like that?

Please tell me that you get the reference...

No?

Seriously?

Sigh.

_Okay_...

If you haven't heard Godsmack then you've been living under a rock somewhere far removed from civilization, maybe even a different planet, with an alien race, where no one has ears... or radios.

And where Godsmack is concerned, I'd count you a lucky bastard... or bitch, respectively, if that were the case.

But for the rest of us, those of us forced to hear them every time we start the car or go into a music store, they're inescapable - kind of like herpes.

I mean, once you get those, they _never_ go away.

Woah, wait! I'm not speaking from experience here or anything...

Trust.

I promise.

This is one of those areas where I'm ahead of the game.

I just sort of know this kind of stuff...

Anyway, to the rest of us non-aliens, Godsmack is like herpes: even years after they've kind of disappeared from the limelight, they're still pop up on public radio every day.

Who knows why...?

They're a rock band, if you want to call them that, and the FM airwaves just aren't giving them up.

Personally, I think rock is a loose interpretation here. I know rock and roll. It's in my blood. It's what I do.

Godsmack most definitely is not _rock_, but the rest of the known world isn't as enlightened as I am.

In an attempt to meet the lesser beings around me half-way, I have classified Godsmack under the Ashley Davies disapproved genre of cheese-dick rock.

It's still kind of rock to placate the masses, but I think my genre is more... succinct.

And I think its meaning is pretty self-explanatory.

I will admit that there was liquor involved when I came up with that little gem.

Like, lots of it.

And for those who were present when I first coined it, cheese-dick rock became sort of a household name, just like clutch or totes...

Or all of the pole-dancing jokes because of that one time...

But anyway, I digress.

Where was I?

Oh, yes.

So, Godsmack is cheese-dick rock. And _this_ cheese-dick rock is _especially_ cheesy... and dicky.

Why, you ask?

Because every single song is exactly the same three chords. It's almost like the whole album is just one song on repeat. If not for the brief pauses between tracks, no one would know when one song ended and the other began.

I kid you not.

_Every_.

_Single_.

_Song_.

Same...

And that's what I mean about my life: circles, people - just endless loops of the same old shit.

What's that all about? I mean, how did that happen to me?

I'm Ashley Davies: rich, hot, commanding, charming, charismatic, and yes... I'll admit, elitist, condescending, and conceited fit somewhere in there as well.

But seriously, when did I get stuck in a rut?

When did I become such a loser?

Why am I so thickheaded and oblivious and... just plain _stupid_?

It's like my intellect is reduced to the IQ of a garden spade when an important emotional opportunity presents itself to me.

Why?

Just, _why_...?

Fuck. If. I. Know.

Seriously, I exasperate myself.

I'm _so_ sick of fucking up.

Just once I want to make the right choice, do the right thing, _say_ the right words...

And more than that, I want to make, do, and say all of that right stuff at exactly the right time.

But that's just too much to ask of the universe.

I have some seriously shitty karma and I just don't get it.

And that's the crux of the problem.

I just don't even see the opportunity until:  
1 - I've already fucked it up so bad that it's blown up in my face.  
or...  
2 - It's just... poof, gone...

I want to change this about myself.

Really, I do.

I just don't know how!

How do you just magically become more aware?

Is there a pill for that?

Does yoga help?

Pfft, I mean, Kyla loves yoga and have you spoken to her?

_So_ not helping her with awareness...

But still, how?

And that's what brings me here, to this house, on this porch, in the middle of the night, staring at a long lost lover's door like a pathetic fool and twitching like a tweaker.

Fuck, I don't know if I can do this... _change_ thing.

Ha, yeah, not gonna happen.

I turn on my heel and nearly stumble down the cracked steps that took me an age to find the strength to climb.

You've seen pictures of those Mayan temples with all those steps, right?

Right.

Well, these steps seemed to go on forever and I just couldn't figure out how to get to the top of them without having a panic attack.

I mean, there are three of them...

Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh at me all you want.

But still, three might as well have been hundreds.

They were mocking me.

They still are.

I'm serious!

They're laughing at me, just like you.

You can stop now...

No, really...

Okay, I'm going to pout now...

See my lower lip?

Must you pop my melodramatic bubble?

_*pathetic voice* _I have feelings, you know...

Quiet sniffle...

And now you feel bad, right?

Maybe even got a few 'aww's or 'how sad's out of you?

Ha! Suckers...

Anyway, in all seriousness though, it took everything that I had to get out of my car and twitch my way closer to those laughing steps, the door beyond them looming in the distance like the gate to Mordor while the world narrowed in on me.

There may even have been fog and ominous light spilling out through the jamb.

Maybe a breathy voice was telling me not to go into the light.

It had me worried.

I'm still worried...

My palms would be sweating, if that were possible.

I just don't do things like sweat.

Because, I'm Ashley Davies...

And, I mean, _gross_...

But... oh, who am I kidding?

I come skidding to a stop at the bottom of the steps, my feet unwilling to let me run away like I want to - like I have been for most of my life - as if I'm a mime but the fake glass is so not fake, and I have no choice but to admit that my palms are indeed sweating.

They _never_ sweat.

I screw up my face in disgust.

When did that happen?

I'm a guitarist, a programmer, for fuck's sake.

My hands are my trade.

They're steady and capable and... dry... at the very _least_...

And when did I start living in a box, the open world around me somehow confining?

And since when am I so nervous that I feel like a zit-faced, prepubescent boy hiding his chubby because his tutor leaned over him to check his work?

When did I become such a... pussy?

For all of my flaws, I've always been gutsy.

That's one of the things that she always liked about me.

Where she's shy, I just jump right in.

Where she's level-headed and predictable, I'm rash and impulsive.

And those are the very things that I always liked about _her_.

I mean, we're so different - like night and day.

And I think that it's those differences that made me need her so damn much, _too_ damn much. And that's what makes running away impossible for the first time in my life.

Or maybe the concrete has somehow softened and mired my feet.

I look down to check, and feel my shoulders slump with relief.

T'would be a shame. I really love these boots...

Focus, Davies...

The truth is that she kept me tethered, but somehow, still allowed me to touch the sky.

And without her, this time, I'm just going to float away...

I sigh, turning back to the hundreds - I mean, three - dreaded steps, and wipe my hands on the thighs of my jeans. It's dark out, those steps lead into Freddy's boiler room - I just know it - but I'll never be able to sleep again if I don't face this.

Face _her..._

I'm awake now.

I finally see what's been right in front of me all along.

And there's a good possibility... no, I'm fairly certain, that I'm destined to have this door slammed in my face the minute that I get the nerve to say what I came to say.

But at least it will be out there, with her, to do with what she will.

At least she'll know that I'm sorry, that I was just scared, and a coward, and that I think...

I shake my head, my jaw clenching with the effort to be honest.

No, no, no... I don't _think_, I _know_...

Deep down in my bones...

That I still love her.

That I'm still _in _love with her.

And that regardless of what the future holds, I can't stay away from her, even if it's to protect her.

I also know that it's too late.

Because I'm always too late.

But late or not, I have to do this.

I _need _to do this.

She deserves to know the truth.

With a deep breath, I run up the steps and force myself to knock three times before I can psyche myself out again.

But that didn't help; now I'm _really_ psyched.

I can't leave now...

I've done it; I've boxed myself in.

Ironic, isn't it?

But then, maybe she's not home...

I can't tell if that would be a good thing or not.

I glance over at her Toyota in the driveway, a canary yellow jeep sitting next to it, and swallow the cotton in my mouth.

She has to be here.

And what kind of person owns a canary yellow car anyway?

It's just... tacky.

There's still no answer. Or, maybe she's really not h-

I grimace when the porch light blinds me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

The deadbolt clicks as loudly as a gunshot, the door cracks open just enough to expose a bright blue orb slightly murky from interrupted sleep, and I swallow so hard that this time I'm afraid that I just ate my tongue.

I wipe my nasty palms again.

Fucking, gross...

"Ashley...?"

This is the part where I'm supposed to say something.

I know.

I think I opened my mouth to make sounds, but I can't tell. My face is numb and I think I'm going deaf because her lips move but I didn't hear what she just said.

Or, no, maybe it's because the blood pounding in my ears is drowning her out.

"Ashley?!"

That did the trick.

I snap out of my funk and finally say something profound.

"Wuh..."

It was more of a whooshing exhale than a word, but work with me here.

I made noise.

That's progress.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Um... I look down at my wrist and realize that I've lost my watch.

Shit...

I start patting my pockets and checking the area around my feet nervously, taking a full minute to realize that I don't wear a watch...

I don't even _own_ one...

"What are you doing here?" This time, her voice is sort of harsh.

I breathe in and close my eyes, again wiping my palms and cursing them for having ducts.

I didn't find the elusive watch, but I do finally find my voice.

"Hey, Spence..."

Smooth, I know.

She's looking at me expectantly.

It's not good expectation, more like the expectation one might feel when they stick their foot out to trip someone else.

Only, instead of wanting me to hit the ground, she wants me to hit the road.

She made my absence from her life pretty clear the last time that we saw one another.

And I can tell by the fact that she's refused to open the door any further than the small length of security chain will permit, that she's not going to invite me in.

No getting comfortable for me.

But then, nothing about this entire situation is comfortable.

So, I try again, clearing my throat though I have no idea where to start.

But then, maybe, the start is where I should begin.


	2. Chapter 2: FML

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Again, if you want this continued, please tell me what you did and didn't like, or if you find the reading flow, word selection, or storyline difficult in any way so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: FML**

_Growing up - It's one of those things that everyone has to do. It's a rite of passage, a milestone that will help shape who you are and set you up to achieve all of your goals when you're eventually thrust into adulthood._

_It's blah, blah, puppies, blah, blah, rainbows, blah, blah, unicorns crapping rainbows - or so everyone says._

_Well, what the hell does 'everyone' really know?_

_Sometimes, growing up is none of those grand illusions. Sometimes, it's just an expanse of time that's dreaded and slogged through without inspiration or desire because the only other alternative is to die._

_Sometimes, it's just simply survived._

_And I'm not talking about losing your baby teeth or your first visit from Aunt Flo, or even that first fumbling kiss in the dark that left you wondering what all the fuss was about._

_Because that's what everyone's really referring to with all of those ridiculous platitudes._

_I'm talking about the reality of life for some, the marginal few that are lost in society's cracks, that one percent of individuals born into a world that doesn't want them._

_I was a part of that one percent._

_I started my life in the armpit of Southeastern Ohio, with nothing but woods for a playground and rocks for friends. We had a population of around two-hundred and your nearest neighbor a mile away._

_Say it with me folks..._

_HILLBILLIES!_

_That's right. I'm not proud of it, but that's where I came from._

_I bet you didn't know that white trash was in the northern parts of America, but it is._

_Trust._

_I grew up in the sticks, where there were no schools or hospitals, not even a piggly wiggly. This place had a gas station, a mom and pop grocery, and a liquor store._

_That's it._

_And that's where I grew up way too fast, even as it emotionally stunted me._

_How, you ask?_

_Well, I knew the meaning of taking care of myself long before I'd mastered tying my shoelaces, because in my young life, no one else was going to do it for me._

_And at five years old, death isn't something that crosses your mind._

_So that was out._

_Why was it like that?_

_Well, I never knew my dad, unless you count the stories mom used to lament in her drunken stupors._

_I can still hear her whiskey-slurred, cigarette tarnished voice grating out, "It's your fault he left," and, "Too bad abortions weren't legal in my day..."_

_And that's only the times that she actually addressed me. Usually, I was background noise._

_She was a very busy lush after all. Between the alcohol, wacky tobacky, and random men, there just wasn't enough time in the day to be bothered with me._

_She made this very clear to me, especially when she had a "gentleman-caller."_

_"Leave or keep your mouth shut," she'd say simply._

_And I did what I was told. I knew what it was like to make her angry, and I sure as hell didn't want to be around her anyway, especially with her boyfriends._

_I hated the caterwauling._

_Seriously, it sounded like he was beating her with a wet sack._

_The first time it scared me, and I braved peeking into the room to check on her. What I saw scarred me for life, and I barely dodged the ashtray she threw at my face._

_That's actually how she named me._

_Ashley... ashtray._

_Who'd have thought that of all of the things that could have happened to make me become real to her, catching her mating with some hairy redneck would be the one?_

_Apparently, she found it hilarious... after the fact... so funny that I finally got a name._

_I hadn't had a name until then; it was always just... girl._

_So I stuck to myself no matter what I heard from that moment on, living in the shadows and in my mind, and fanaticizing that my dad was going to come riding in on a white horse and rescue me._

_He had to, right?_

_Isn't that what dads do?_

_I had no idea, but I fantasized anyway._

_I fantasized and waited for something while just surviving, though I didn't even have the vocabulary to call it that._

_And then mom went and got pregnant... again._

_She didn't want Kyla any more than she wanted me. In fact, it might have even been less, if that were possible. I'm not sure if it was because of her new pusher boyfriend, the meth habit that he shared with her, or if she'd just hated Kyla's dad more than she'd hated mine. And although abortions were legal, she found out way too late._

_Whatever the reason, she didn't want her, and it showed._

_I had always wondered how I'd survived infancy. I still have no idea how that happened._

_Maybe it was fairies... or gnomes?_

_I truly hope that it was._

_Anyway..._

_Kyla was born and mom wouldn't even go near her, so I did the best that I could._

_Kyla named herself, if you were wondering, but I'll explain that later._

_Anyway, by the time that I was eight, I had somehow successfully managed to keep her alive. She was, mostly, a healthy three-year-old._

_Don't get me wrong; I loved my baby sister, but I was eight._

_Can we say too much?_

_Good, because it was._

_One afternoon I'd finally gotten Kyla to sleep; she'd been teething and cranky, and I could hear mom and her boyfriend's muted grunts through the paper-thin walls of our single-wide._

_Of course, Kyla wasn't fazed by it. It happened so often that she could sleep through anything. You could bang a metal spoon on a metal pot right by her ear, and she'd just snore at you, maybe drool a little._

_I'd know; I tried it._

_Anyway, I'd just gotten her to sleep, and out of nowhere, I started to feel... angry, and maybe even resentful._

_She was just a baby, but she had me._

_Who did I have?_

_I was utterly alone._

_That was the first time that I considered running away. Of course, I didn't understand the implications of something like that. I just felt an innate need to be anywhere but where I was._

_So I left the house and started running, no idea where I was going._

_I ran, and ran, and ran... not stopping until my legs and lungs were about to give out._

_Unwittingly, I'd ventured much further than was normal, than was allowed, and found myself in a little town about three miles away._

_It wasn't much, but it was new and they had things that I'd never seen before: a diner and a library, a park, a school, and even other kids._

_It was so fascinating._

_Even the people there actually noticed me. One woman even asked where my mom was and I panicked, taking off at a sprint._

_I quickly learned that I had to be more careful after that. If someone caught me and told mom..._

_Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, that didn't keep me away._

_I just stayed out of sight until I realized that I could reinvent myself._

_There, in that little rural town, I could be anything, anyone.I could do anything, and for the first time, the world had some possibilities, all because I'd run._

_They even had this place called Al's Guitar Emporeum, and inside were instruments._

_Shocking, I know..._

_It was love at first sight. I couldn't resist the guitars. There was this invisible force that was sucking me in, and I went willingly._

_I'll never forget the first time that I stroked my finger down the taut strings of a Taylor acoustic, the bright, vibrant tones singing out in stark contrast to how my world felt._

_And the smell of a guitar... well, there's none like in the world._

_I spent most of my time listening to the customers play, their fingers working those strings into beautiful crescendos..._

_I had no idea how they did it. I would have given anything to learn, but that was just beyond me. I'd never know how. Not me. But I could watch and listen and allow myself to just feel good._

_The owner only asked me once where my parents were, but I was ready this time. I'd watched the kids at the park, even spoken to a couple of them. They weren't very nice to me; I assume now that it was because of my appearance and my smell, but they gave me something new to add to my fantasies._

_Remember how I said that I could reinvent myself? Well, I added any of those other girls with their glossy hair and new, clean clothes to my fantasies. I could be Rebecca or Samantha, or anyone of them, and so I was when the fancy struck me._

_And when Al asked me where my mom was, I smiled easy and lied through my teeth, giving him a name, any name, any identity but my own and told him that I lived in the trailer park._

_Apparently, I dreamed small._

_But trailer parks were everywhere in those parts, and that seemed to placate him because he never asked again._

_Al's became my home, my real home, and I went as often as I could, which was usually once or twice a week. This small town, three miles from my miserable life, had given me something to look forward to that was just my own._

_But it also turned me into a hardened criminal._

_Of course I had no money and never would. And even if I did, I wouldn't know how to count it._

_It was torture, being surrounded by all of these things, some that I desperately needed and others that I just so desperately wanted, but I could never have either._

_A brilliant idea began to form in my mind, and as if by second-nature, I began to take a five-finger discount._

_As I said before, the things that shouldn't come so naturally to me, just do..._

_Quickly, my sister and I started having things like shoes and clothes that actually fit, shampoo and soap, and even toothbrushes._

_That's how I took care of us: necessities stuffed carefully into oversized clothing and walked right out of the door. Hell, I'd walk out in new shoes._

_It felt amazing; it was thrilling, even though I knew that it was wrong, maybe even because I knew that it was wrong._

_Mom had slapped me so hard once that I had thought that my grandchildren might feel the sting for trying to pilfer a candy bar from her stash._

_If a candy bar could get me knocked on my ass, what would they do to me over clothes and soap and toys?_

_Yeah, I knew it was wrong..._

_But I did it anyway._

_I mean, mom wasn't there. She didn't know, and I wasn't going to let her find out. In this town... I was unstoppable; I was invincible, and there was nothing that anyone could do to take me down, not even mom._

_By the time that I was ten, my sister and I had a decent collection of clothes. I even managed to steal her some crayons, coloring books, and barrettes._

_And we didn't look too bad either. I kept us both clean and groomed on the generosity of those unwitting establishments._

_Of course, I had to be creative at home. First of all, mom couldn't see any of it. So we hid things meticulously, regardless of the fact that she never paid that much attention anyway. As to the clothes, well, I didn't take anything too nice. Mostly, it was second-hand stuff, so mom didn't notice._

_We didn't have a washing machine or anything like that, but we had water, and with a little creativity, I managed for Kyla and myself. The only thing that I could never really get rid of was that smell. It was cigarettes and something... else, harsh, chemical._

_But even still, I actually began to feel like I had a tiny bit of control in my world._

_For those two years, I had sunk into a routine that worked for me and Kyla, and apparently mom, because I wasn't getting smacked around. I only took small things or just what was needed, and maybe that's why, even if it was noticed, no one ever pursued my capture._

_But the guitar... I just couldn't figure out how I was going to get away with the heist of the century._

_It most definitely wasn't going to fit down my pants, but I was ten years old, desperate, and determined. Its glossy black and red sunburst finish had entranced me, and nothing was going to stop me from having it, no matter what._

_I watched Al for weeks, studying his routines and learning his schedule. The man was like clockwork, and that made it easy, or at least I had thought. I figured that I could get in and out with the guitar while he was eating his lunch in his office at the back of the store._

_I was small. Getting in without jingling the bell above the door wouldn't be that hard, but I'd overestimated my abilities, because just as I was sneaking out with the Taylor, Al came out to get some receipts from the register and caught me._

_I ran, of course, but he was taller and stronger and ultimately faster, despite his paunch._

_And that's how I learned what a police station was._

_I didn't cry or say a word to them at first, even when they tried to scare me. But then it began to get dark, and I began to realize that my baby sister was awake and alone and needed me, so I finally told them who I was and where I lived._

_I had no idea that mom and her boyfriend were cooking meth in the shack out back._

_Or that it was responsible for the smell that I could never really escape._

_I also had no idea that meth was illegal, or that there were things like child protective services._

_But before I knew it, my mom and her boyfriend were in cuffs, and my sister and I were being loaded in two separate vehicles that would be heading in two different directions._

_I tried to fight and I bloodied that lady cop's nose, but this scenario is one of those things that the collective 'they' don't prepare you for with those optimistic platitudes: in the real world, you're outnumbered and helpless._

_And as I watched that other car drive away, I hated myself because I didn't need that guitar, but I did need my sister._

_I was too stupid to ever learn something like that anyway._

_I didn't know what I'd been thinking._

_I'd been selfish, and now who knew what was going to happen?_

_And right about now, I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this. I mean, it's been fifteen years, it's not sexy time with Spencer, and ultimately, it's depressing._

_But, it's the start that I was talking about, and you can't finish until you start. This is where I learned to run from things and shut down emotionally._

_So, I'm going to get through it as quick as I can to get to the stuff that I know you're itching to hear. But you're going to have to get through this with me first, just like Spencer._

_Speaking of Spencer..._

_You see, from that car ride, I wound up in Wickliffe, Ohio._

_You getting excited yet?_

_I thought so..._

_Keep reading, oh impatient one._

_Wickliffe was the first city that I had ever set eyes on, and I learned immediately that I was a city girl through and through. People were everywhere, the buildings were massive, and while I suppose that it should have scared me, instead, it comforted me._

_I could easily get lost in a place like this, and that's what I was going to do._

_I'd get lost and make my way to Columbus. That's where the social worker had said that they were taking Kyla, and it was only two hours away._

_He also said that it would be possible for us to keep in touch once we'd both found permanent families._

_But for all that I didn't know, I wasn't stupid enough to believe him._

_I mean, he was kind. I could tell. It was in his eyes, they radiated a warmth that I'd never experienced before._

_And mostly, it unsettled me._

_I didn't trust him._

_How could I?_

_People weren't kind, not any that I'd met, and especially not men. Plus, he'd just blatantly lied to me._

_Kyla had a chance at adoption. She was only five, and, don't tell her that I said this, but absolutely adorable. She was so chubby..._

_That part you can tell her._

_But me... I was a ten-year-old delinquent who couldn't even read._

_I wasn't adorable and I sure as hell wasn't chubby. I was just vacant, off-standish, and cynical._

_Who would want me?_

_The only thing that I had going for me is that I knew how to survive._

_I could do that._

_Which was a good thing, because I was going to need that skill to get to my sister, and then we'd run together._

_That was my goal from the first moment that I'd set foot in Whitcliffe's juvey, but I was thwarted at every turn._

_You see, they have these fucked-up, little things called ankle bracelets. And since I was a master thief extraordinaire, I officially got my first piece of jewelry._

_I couldn't go to the bathroom without them knowing it._

_And to make it worse, Mr. Carlin, the social worker with deceptively kind eyes, he'd force me to be in his office three times a week to talk about my feelings._

_This was worse than home._

_At least there, no one pretended to care, and I had my sister._

_At least there, I could escape if I needed to._

_But he'd trapped me here to talk to me, and I didn't want to talk, or at least I'd convinced myself that I didn't._

_So... I didn't._

_This went on for about three months, and during that time I'd attempted to run away twelve times, shoved our house-mother so hard that she'd sprained her ankle, and during a good old fashioned prison brawl, I had received a black eye._

_You should have seen the other girl though..._

_I refused to do any schoolwork or lessons, choosing instead to brood and seethe. And as my offenses mounted up, Mr. Carlin warned me that if I didn't stop, I'd be moved to an even worse facility. So what did I do? I lashed out harder and shut up tighter._

_Mr. Carlin was trying to reach me, to help me, but I didn't want it because I didn't trust it and I didn't trust him. But like all supervillains, he knew my weakness, my kryptonite._

_One day, he brought me a black and red sunburst Taylor acoustic guitar._

_It wasn't like the other one; it was better. It was rosewood and dreadnaught, the frets inlaid with mother of pearl. And it was brand new, virgin, never been touched, and I really, really wanted to touch it._

_But I couldn't, and it took everything in me not to break down in tears._

_He bought it with his own money, and when he presented it to me I was determined not to accept it. That was the worst part. I could finally have what I'd really wanted, what I'd traded my sister for, but I couldn't allow myself because then I'd owe him._

_And I couldn't abide that._

_But then he used his mental super powers on me. "Ashley, this doesn't come with strings attached."_

_He chuckled at his lame joke and I bit the inside of my cheek. I mean, it was funny. I just couldn't admit that to him._

_"I wanted to get this for you," he continued. "Because if you can't open up to me, maybe this will give you the outlet that you need to open up at all."_

_Remember how I said that Mr. Carlin had kind eyes? Well, I still didn't trust him out of principle, but he really was a kind man._

_And so that's why I finally spoke to him. "I won't owe you anything?"_

_His smile was just as warm. "No, you won't owe me anything. But..."_

_Of course, here it comes..._

_He takes out his wallet and pulls out a card, setting it on my knee. "This is my cell number. If you ever need anything, any time of night, just call me, okay?"_

_I looked at the guitar in all of its glorious perfection and considered his request. And that's when it hit me: it was a request, not a requirement. He didn't expect it, which was smart because it would never happen._

_For this guitar...?_

_But then it had nothing to do with this guitar?_

_I decided to test that theory. "What if I say no?"_

_His brows furrowed before he finally caught on. "Oh, no, no. I meant what I said, no strings. If you refuse the card, the guitar's still yours."_

_I looked away, crossed my arms, and after a moment of pretentious deliberation, because, duh, I was totally taking the guitar, I nodded my head once._

_He laughed, patted me on the knee, and I nearly ran from his office with my new best friend in tow._

_I hated it at the time, but he was right. That guitar opened me right up. I filled every moment of my confinement with trying to puzzle out how it worked, but theory and know-how are just fluff. When you feel that kind attachment, that inexplicable draw to music, it will find its way out of even the most ignorant soul._

_That didn't stop me from wanting to know all of the fluff, which then presented a bigger problem: I couldn't read, let alone read music or music theory. That was all the incentive that I needed to focus on my studies._

_I still didn't open up to Mr. Carlin in our sessions, but I felt less hostile towards him. I felt less hostile, altogether. And as it turned out, when I applied myself, I was very capable. I began to learn quickly, thirsting for those epic shredding abilities._

_By the end of six months, I had a fourth grade reading comprehension and I was learning to make chords on the guitar by googling fingering patterns on the old dial-up computer in the house. And that's when another of my loves presented itself to me: computers._

_I hate to admit it, and while I never once forgot about Kyla, I began to resent the fact that she needed me. I wanted to forget the first decade of my life, and while I didn't want to lose her, I was happy and I was doing well._

_But my needs never mattered._

_That's what it meant to be a big sister._

_And then Mr. Carlin gave me the rope that I needed to hang myself._

_He was such a sap..._

_But I liked that about him. Even when I didn't like that I liked that about him, if you can follow._

_Anyway, it turns out that when you start acting like a human, others start treating you like a human. All of that work to learn to read so that I could play guitar had earned me the right not to wear the ankle bracelet._

_I hated myself for abusing that trust, but I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't leave Kyla to whatever fate. So, the same night that they liberated me, I packed some clothes in my guitar case, my lyrics and notebooks as well, slung the guitar by the strap across my back, and snuck out._

_I had been right about the city: I could easily get lost in it. But I hadn't been prepared for this kind of survival, and I had absolutely no idea where I was going._

_I spent a week sleeping under benches, eating out of garbage bins, and avoiding any and every person within shouting distance as I wandered around looking for any sign that would lead me to Columbus, but nothing was forthcoming._

_That was the lowest I'd ever been in my life._

_I was unwilling to ask anyone how to get to Columbus for fear of capture. I had no money and of course I'd chosen the exact wrong time to try and get away. Winter was sweeping in with a vengeance, and the last two days had been increasingly colder._

_My fingers were painfully numb, my nose was running, and my throat itched. I was filthy, starving, and freezing, and I knew that me and my guitar were going to die if we didn't get some help._

_I did what I did to save the guitar, I swear._

_I mean, Al deserved better than to die like that..._

_*narrows eyes* Don't judge me._

_So, I pulled Mr. Carlin's card from my back pocket, walked into something called a Starbucks, and presented it to the barrista with a flourish and disarming smile. "I'm a runaway teen. Can you please call the number on this card and ask for Mr. Carlin?"_

_The poor girl seemed stunned, but after a moment she took the card rather cautiously from my hand and made the call._

_I sat in a bright green, cushy armchair and waited in the much needed warmth. The girl brought me a hot chocolate in an oversized mug and a huge blueberry muffin with crunchy, munchy things in top, setting them on the low table in front of me._

_"He's on his way," she said._

_I stared at the mug and muffin longingly, my stomach slightly sick at the prospect of real food. "I... don't have any money."_

_She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "It's covered, sweetie."_

_I watched her walk away in a daze for a minute before tearing into the food with gusto. I'd never tasted anything like it, and I'd found yet another of my loves: Starbucks._

_Full, warm, and safe in a soft char, I was about to doze off when Mr. Carlin showed up._

_And once I saw his frantic face, once I realized what I'd just done, I started to panic. Surely, I was going to get shipped to military school or a convent or something equally hideous._

_He squatted in front of me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"_

_The words rushed out of his mouth and I couldn't help but notice his tone. He seemed... worried._

_What was that about?_

_I mean, was my fate really that bad?_

_I wasn't really sure how to respond, so I just shrugged noncommittally._

_He patted my shoulder and stood. "Okay, let's get you home."_

_Home?_

_What did that even mean?_

_I got sluggishly to my feet and followed him to his car after he settled the tab, and I realized that I now owed him. I shouldn't have called him, but I wasn't sure what else to do. Either way, it was too late now._

_His car was still warm and I waited in the front seat while he settled Al in the trunk. It had started to sleet and I stared out the window while waiting for the anger to come, but it never did._

_Wasn't he going to yell at me, berate me, anything?_

_Apparently not, because outside of the squeak of the windshield wipers and continuous blow of the heater, it was dead quiet._

_That was almost worse. At least if he was yelling I'd know what he was thinking or have an idea of what was going to happen. His silence left me flapping in the wind._

_I'm not sure why I felt the need to justify myself to him. Maybe it was because I owed him now, but either way, I did._

_"I was trying to get to my sister."_

_He sighed, still quiet._

_I waited some more, but still, nothing..._

_This pissed me off. "Whatever. It was dumb of me to think that you'd understand."_

_I was trying to provoke him and I knew it, but it didn't work. He was implacable, infuriating. He obviously just didn't care. I shook my head in disgust. He'd played me, but whatever. I'd runaway and freeze to death before I made that mistake again._

_He sighed again. "Ashley, I'm going to tell you something. And I'm not telling you this to hurt you or make you feel bad, but because I need for you to understand that what you do has consequences."_

_He glanced over at me with those sincere eyes and I felt my brow furrow for a moment before realization dawned. This was it. They were going to ship me off and he didn't want to feel bad about it, so he was going to explain how it was all my fault._

_I'd finally pulled my last stunt. I could've kick myself right then. Outside of tucking and rolling from the car, I was completely stuck, and I'd made the call. They'd put another of the bracelets on me and it'd be over. I'd never see Kyla again._

_Hell, he'd probably burn Al for firewood._

_"The day after you ran away, I had someone coming to your session. I wanted you two to meet. She was considering adopting you and Kyla, together."_

_I gaped at him stupidly. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that. I mean, did I want out of juvey?_

_Hell yes._

_Did I want to go home with a stranger, trust my life to that stranger, trust Kyla's...?_

_Hells to the nizz-o._

_In fact, that would never happen. I could live with Mother Theresa for the rest of my life; she could give me endless supplies of Oreo cookies and guitars; she could crap rainbows on command; God could shine a light down through the clouds to spotlight her and vouch for her Himself, and I still wouldn't trust her._

_I'd never trust anyone again, especially not an adult. They were fickle creatures..._

_But still, this might have been a chance for Kyla, and I might have just blown it for her._

_I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes and swallowed thickly. "Will she at least still take Kyla?"_

_He shook his head slightly and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I'd really ruined it for her..._

_He glanced over at me, something akin to compassion and maybe... respect...I'm not sure, on his face._

_I already owed him and I was already doomed, but maybe I could go for broke. "Could you... would you... talk to her...?_

_He was quiet again so I hastened to reassure him. "For Kyla, I mean. She doesn't have to take me. You can ship me off to wherever, but please, help my sister."_

_He went quiet again and I prayed, to what, I'm not sure. But something somewhere needed to convince him to help Kyla._

_He pulled us over to the side of the street and, leaving the car on, turned to face me. "I'll do anything that I can to help you and your sister, Ashley, but I need your help."_

_I nodded. I'd do anything._

_He reached over and gently lifted my chin to look in my eyes. "I need you to keep your nose clean. You were doing so well before I took the bracelet off, and I understand why you left, but Christine's worried. She's been through a lot too, and just like you, she doesn't want to get hurt. She wants a family, Ashley, and she'll give you that, but you have meet her halfway. Can you do that?"_

_So there I was, in the car of a too-kind man that I didn't want to trust, on a cold day in late November facing another of those emotional opportunities. And all I had to do was say yes and then move forward._

_But all I could do was say, "I can try..."_

_Even when I knew deep down that I probably couldn't, and probably wouldn't._

_He released me, exhaled, smiled sadly, and nodded once. And for some odd reason, I felt an indiscernible desire to comfort him. It's almost as if he knew that I was lying, but decided to believe me anyway._

_"Okay, then," he said._

_Why..._

_Why would he trust me anyway?_

_He shut off the car and I looked out the window expecting to see the juvey facility, but instead I saw a modest, traditional brick home. Not too big and not too little. It gave me the same feeling that Mr. Carlin himself inspired: comfort, and maybe even safety._

_And I rejected those feelings, because I didn't want to want them. I sure as hell didn't want to need them. And that was because I knew that it wouldn't last._

_It would be gone eventually._

_But what could it hurt to have just one night?_

_"Is this your house," I asked._

_"Yup."_

_He opened his door letting in a whoosh of freezing air and flurried ice as he paused to say, "And for the night, it's your house too. Come on..."_

_And with that he was getting out of the car and heading to the trunk. I opened my door with trepidation. I didn't linger outside though; it was too cold, and before I knew it, I was warm again._

_The sounds of laughter and gentle scolding floated from somewhere in the back of the house, and the smell of something delicious assaulted my senses._

_Mr. Carlin took my coat and hung it by the door with his own, setting my guitar there as he bellowed, "Did you adjust the water temperature like I told you?! If you don't, you can-"_

_"Burn the noodles," those same voices chorused in unison._

_He chuckeld and looked over at me. "Come on."_

_I followed him apprehensively down the short hallway, tugging at my dirty clothes self-consciously. I caught sight of my fingernails, each one outlined in black, and quickly lifted the corner of my coat to smell it._

_I couldn't tell if it was bad, but that was probably because I'd grown used to it. I knew that they were going to judge me, because I already was._

_We rounded a corner and stepped into an open kitchen where a thin, platinum-blonde woman was stirring something in a pot. A tall, skinny, blond boy swiveled on his stool between the kitchen and dining room and smiled brightly, almost goofily, at me._

_His voice was mocking. "Dad, you're not supposed to bring the strays home..."_

_I was almost offended, but then the doofish expression on his pleased face caused me to consider that he was just mentally handicapped._

_"Glen," The blonde woman's tone was short and scolding, but it was the look that she gave him that made me cringe. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, and even as they softened when they landed on me and looked me up and down, I still felt like Courtney Love at a Promise Keeper's convention._

_"Don't be a jerk, man...," the dark boy said after placing the last fork on the table._

_I couldn't help myself. I stared. I mean, there were very pale, very blonde people everywhere. Maybe the retarded one was just being honest, Mr. Carlin kept bringing home the strays..._

_I might not have felt so awkward or out of place with him there, but then he was still very clean, his clothes new and obviously expensive. He fit in just fine here despite all of his differences._

_As I mentioned, there were blondes everywhere, but I'd missed one. She hadn't made a sound. Mr. Carlin nabbed her from table setting duty and pushed her up to me with his hands on her shoulders._

_She was about the same age as me, but I was taller. Her hair was darker than her mother's but she was almost a carbon copy. Except her eyes, while the same color, they were friendlier, more open, more inviting, and I didn't feel like she was judging me._

_"Ashley, this is my baby girl, Spencer."_

_"Dad," Spencer bemoaned pathetically._

_Spencer? That's a strange name for a boy, let alone a girl. But given how I was named, I couldn't really say much._

_Mr. Carlin laughed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, I know; I'm sorry. Spencer, this is Ashley. Why don't you take her up to your room, show her the bathroom, and loan her something to sleep in?"_

_She smiled cutely and I felt myself return it despite my misgivings. This girl looked like the quintessential girl-next-door, all American Cheerleader, and Mary Poppins all rolled up into one. She was the embodiment of sugar, spice, and everything nice._

_But, the cynical side of me was wary. She was what the others at the shelter would call a preppy, and preppys are mean._

_She didn't seem mean, especially when she stuck her hand out and said, "Nice to meet you."_

_I stared at it for a moment, deliberating tainting her perfect skin with my filth, but rejecting the gesture would be considered rude?_

_In the end, I decided to shake her hand and make it quick. She smirked when I pulled away as if I'd been scalded, only to grab my hand again and tug me along with her._

_"Come on," she intoned sweetly, her voice almost gravelly but somehow still soft as velvet._

_She almost skipped ahead of me, bubbling with life and light, and I couldn't help but follow her with a certain sense of excitement._

_I'd never met anyone that just made me happy to be around them, but that's how I instantly felt._

_Her room was like something out of one of those horror movies that I'd watched at the house: all teddy bears and lace and pink. It was like Barney threw up or maybe a unicorn had pranced through here spewing glitter from its horn._

_It was light and cheery and everything that I wasn't. I wanted to immerse myself immediately. I'd have given anything to be like that._

_She strode straight over to door at the back of the room, her slightly wavy locks bouncing against her slender shoulders, and I imagined that her hair would be silky soft._

_I reached up and tugged at lock of my own hair, very aware of how stringy it felt._

_"Ashley?"_

_My head snapped up to see her peering at me from inside the bathroom with a curious smile on her lips._

_"You coming," she asked._

_I dropped my hand immediately. "Yeah, sorry..."_

_Her smile turned into a grin and she disappeared inside. I blew out a breath and followed her._

_The bathroom was even more girly than the bedroom because it smelled like fresh linen and something floral, but not like old lady floral._

_I decided immediately that I liked it, and I liked her._

_I also decided that I'd need to squash that, but it was just one night, right?_

_She pulled out a couple of towels and a strange poofy net ball thingy, and set them on the counter._

_She turned to me and gestured to the shower. "Mi casa es su casa."_

_I had no idea what had just happened, and I'm fairly certain that it showed on my face, because she giggled._

_"My home is your home." she explained._

_"Just help yourself to what you need. I'll leave something for you to wear on the bed. You can just come down to dinner when you're done, okay?"_

_I nodded, grateful at the prospect of being clean again, and she left me, shutting the door behind her._

_I slumped against the counter and looked around. I didn't know where I'd be in the next day or week or month, and I wasn't sure that I'd ever really get to see Kyla again._

_I picked up the poofy ball and stared at it. I sure as hell didn't know what I was supposed to do with this thing, but I wanted to know it all, and I wanted Spencer Carlin, specifically, to show me._

_It was irrational, I knew it, and I'd have to forget it, but like with Al, I was beginning to believe that the heart wants what the heart wants._


	3. Chapter 3: The Golden Years, Part 1

**See part 1 for disclaimers.**

**Thanks to everyone for responding and giving feedback. I truly appreciate it. I did have a couple of questions, if you'll further indulge me:**

**Tvl and Guest #1 - Thank you so much for your feedback. The dialogue is coming. I just want to get through the backstory to set up the real meat of the here and now. This may turn out to be a pretty long one. Thank you for telling me what you want to see. As to the flow, can you explain what you mean? Is the flow too choppy, you don't like how often I space or break lines, or is it the flow of words - too many, too descriptive, not descriptive enough, etc? I want Ash's monologue to be a little quirky, but not off-putting. Is that what's disrupting the flow? Thank you again for the real feedback.**

**As always, if you want this continued, I need lots of feedback. Please tell me what you did and didn't like, or if you find the reading flow, word selection, or storyline difficult in any way so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Golden Years, Part 1**

"Look, Ashley, I'm tired. If you're not going to talk..."

I've been standing here for minutes, or days, or months, I'm not sure, but I've been completely mute.

It's funny how when I know that she's about to shut the door, I'm instantly able to shout, "Wait!"

It happened so fast in fact, that I'm not even sure that it was me who did it.

I mean, when did the impulse register in my brain, ping to my locked jaw, and the damned thing actually obey that command?

Did it?

I'm not so sure...

I'm seriously tempted to peek over my shoulder to be sure some other lunatic isn't out there shouting.

No, I'm the only lunatic at this moment.

A dog barks in the distance, sparking another one beyond, and I get frustrated with myself.

I'm fucking it all up, like always, and I have to tramp down on the impulse to stamp my foot like an adolescent Kyla.

This should not be so hard. I've been through worse.

Just suck it up, numb nuts.

I square my shoulders and force myself to pull it the fuck together.

"I'm, uh... I'm sorry for showing up like this, and now, but I couldn't wait..."

That dog barks again, only it's closer and louder, and it startles me. I check my immediate area, but I don't see one...

That's when I realize that this barking isn't a dog at all.

Several things happen in lightning fast succession: Spencer disappears from the crack in the door; the door shuts violently; I hear a harsh scrape, and then the door is flung open.

The canary car owner is standing there in her robe, her hair disheveled, and her eyes crazed.

She's not fat, or even ugly - far from it actually - but the insanity laced politeness is rolling off of her in waves and she very much reminds me of Ursula from the Little Mermaid...

"What are you doing here," she seethes sweetly.

I stare at her, trying to figure out how this is any of her business. But, this is her house - correction: this is her and Spencer's house - and it's the middle of the night, and I'm the ex.

I get it, totally, but not a single fuck is given this day.

I have something to say.

It's for Spencer alone.

And Ursula isn't going to steal my voice.

I gesture to what I assume is Spencer now obscured behind her. "I think it's pretty obvious that I'm trying to talk to Spencer. So, if you don't mind..."

In her defense, I'd have reacted no differently.

Well, that's not true. Instead of threatening to call the police and slamming the door, I'd have probably just bloodied her nose.

It's sort of my trademark move when someone pisses me off in the extreme.

Every breath Ursula takes qualifies, and I've only just met her.

And, well, I never said that my hatred of her was rational or warranted...

I can hear hushed arguing behind the door and I wait because this is _so _not over.

Not by a longshot.

It takes a few minutes, but the door opens again. This time it's all the way, and this time, it's just Spencer.

I smile awkwardly at her. "I'm sorr-"

She raises a hand to stop my apology and I know that she's angry.

And she's so damn cute when she's angry.

I hear what she's saying, really I do.

"You can't just show up like this, Ashley."

But I'm mostly focused on the fact that her skin is slightly flushed, and just as flawless as it was the night that I met her, the very night that I fell head over heels for the first and last time.

"And you can't treat her like that, especially not in her own home."

Her face and posture are rigid, but her hair is mussed, her lips are a little puffy, and her eyes - now sharp with adrenaline and anger - are still just as warm and inviting as they always were, despite how much she tries to be threatening.

I can't help but smile a little.

She wants so badly to be intimidating, but nothing can mask her heart when her eyes are open.

And her heart just isn't an angry one.

And now she's indignant. "What are you smiling about?"

Her timbre was _almost_ threatening...

I try to wipe the smile from my face, but I fail, miserably, and instead, I find myself wearing a shit-eating grin.

I can't help it, and she won't own it, but it's entirely her fault.

It finally fades though when the reality of this situation comes to the forefront: she's about to eighty-six my ass.

"Spence, can we... I mean, this isn't something I can just say. It's kind of... a lot."

She sighs and I finally feel bad for waking her up. "Ashley, I don't think there's very much to say anymore."

She's wrong.

She's _so _wrong.

I find my fidgeting fingers fascinating. "That's not true, Spence. There so much, too much..."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?"

I shake my head. "No, it really couldn't."

She scoffs. "I assume that this has to do with you disappearing four years ago?"

I nod, and then gulp.

Audibly...

Spencer's mocking voice is not my favorite. "_Four_ _years_, and it couldn't wait _one more night_?"

I look up into her eyes with as much conviction as I can muster. "No, it _really_ couldn't."

She takes a deep breathe, releasing it in measures. It's almost clinical, almost cold - but only almost...

"Not everything can work on your schedule, Ashley. Despite what you think, the whole world doesn't revolve around you."

I don't know what to say to that. I mean, she's right. It's not fair of me to do this at all, let alone without any regard for her needs.

But that's the funny thing about nerve: if you don't use it while you have it, you'll lose it.

I had to do this, and I had to do this now, or I never would.

She's not a coward though, so she couldn't possibly understand, and I have no idea how to explain it to her.

I only know that she always appreciated how spontaneous I was, and I could only count on that one thing to have somehow remained intact, however slightly.

"Indulge me, please...?"

I can tell that she's about to decline, so I hasten to convince her.

"Look, I'm only asking you to hear me out, and I promise that once I'm done, I'll leave and I won't come back, if... if that's what you really want."

I don't know how I'll survive it this time, but if that's what will make her happy, then, well, there are more important things than survival.

And all of them are directly linked to her.

The way she's looking at me makes me feel exposed, naked, and vulnerable. It's like she's searching me for something.

I don't know what it is; I only know that I couldn't be more sincere in my plea.

And she must have seen that, because she backs away from the door and leaves it open.

I watch her disappear into the darkness of the house and peek inside nervously.

Am I supposed to-

"Come in already..."

Okay, disembodied voices aren't creepy or anything.

I hear a click as I step over the threshold, and the soft glow of a lamp lights the space.

Much better.

I shut the door behind me, but when I turn around, she's gone again.

When did she become a wraith?

I hear clanking towards the back of the house and assume that she's in the kitchen, so I sit nervously in one of the modern, gray armchairs and tap my fingers on my knees.

I've never been in her house before, not since her parents at least.

It's so... modern - all minimalistic glass and monochromatic tones. It feels masculine, and immediately I know that this isn't how Spencer's house would be, _should _be.

This must be canary sea-witch's fault.

I wonder where Flotsam and Jetsam are...

I scrunch up my nose and gloat, finding warranted rationality in my dislike of her now.

Strange, her car is bright yellow and yet her house looks like a bus station bathroom. I don't get what Spencer sees in her...

And before you say it, I know that I'm a little biased...

Okay, a lot biased.

Just... shut up, already.

This is hard enough without your snarky comments.

A large mug appears in front of my face and I flinch back a little before realizing that I'm supposed to take it.

My reflexes finally register long enough for me to accept it, and excitement bubbles inside of me as realization dawns.

Is this what I think it is?

I peer into the contents and narrowly avoid weeping with joy.

The liquid smooth chocolate sprinkled with tiny Christmas-colored marshmallows greets me with its inviting steam and glorious aroma, and I glance at Spencer gratefully.

If I were a dog, my tongue would be lolling and tail wagging.

And that would all be happening unabashedly.

I have no shame...

She shakes her head, an indulgent smile lighting her face, and she gestures to the mug. "Some things never change, I see."

I don't wait another second to take a huge gulp, happiness and memory and deliciousness filling up every inch of my insides and warming them.

I moan and lick the marshmallow mustache from my lips, closing my eyes and savoring that distinctly familiar taste of bittersweet history.

I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed this...

Missed _her_...

I've observed her and Mr. C make this cocoa a hundred times, at least. This isn't from a package or a box. I know exactly how it's done from scratch, but I never had the finesse. It was as if I lacked the love needed to give it that magical quality.

But Spencer, she always had the touch.

Spencer chuckles and takes a sip from her own mug, nodding her own pleasure.

"Yep, I still got it," she says in a self-congratulatory and decidedly sexy way.

Scratch that, she's just smug.

And sexy...

I settle back in the chair, instantly comfortable and relaxed despite the circumstances.

There's been so much pain and heartache in my life, but there was a time when everything was golden and new and... just right.

And this mug of happiness in my hand is a shining beacon in the dark illuminating that time. How strange that something as simple as a cup of cocoa can bring all of the good things surging back.

But it does.

And I want it to.

Why wouldn't I?

It was the best time of my life.

My very own golden years...

* * *

_Okay, I live in America. I'm not sure how many of you don't, but I'm going to explain something for you about America should you live elsewhere._

_In America, things are instant. We have instant coffee, instant tea, instant video and music streaming, instant insecurities upon birth... _

_In the land of the free and the home of the brave, it's instant everything._

_Instaland, if you will. _

_From convenience stores to potatoes to gratification - if you want it, and even if you don't, it's yours, presto._

_So, you'll understand what I mean when I say that Spencer Carlin and I were instant friends - instafriends - respectively. _

_Just add water and POOF._

_It's good to be an American..._

_Anyway, that first night in the Carlin home was the beginning of what would be the most impactful relationship of my life, and I was only eleven years old._

_And this life-altering relationship was not only instant, it was deep, and that depth was only bolstered by the fact that I lived with the Carlin's for the rest of November, and the whole month of December. _

_I spent almost every waking moment with Spencer: from watching movies to listening to music, from making snow angels to teaming up on Glen with rock-filled snowballs, from staying up until the wee hours of the morning talking about everything and nothing to avoiding embarrassing topics altogether. _

_We just clicked._

_She knew... like, everything... and I was soaking it all up._

_It was a genius move on Mr. C's part really, taking me in and all._

_I mean, I'm me, right?_

_So there's that._

_And then there's the fact that Christine was his neighbor._

_He knew what he was doing; I was sure of it. He had mutagenical - is that a word? Well, it is now... - superpowers. And he knew that if Christine saw me enough, she wouldn't be able to resist me despite her apprehension._

_So now I bet you're wondering: what happened to all of your big talk about not needing or trusting and running away and blah, blah, blah?_

_Well, I figured a few things out about myself very quickly in that first week:  
1 - I had very deep-seeded trust issues that I would probably never fully recover from. Thanks, mom...  
2 - I was a shameless narcissist and attention whore. Again, thanks, mom...  
3 - Number two would always win out over all of the other emotional dilemmas. *shrugs* No idea who's fault that was, but it couldn't have been mine. And last but not least, drum roll, please...  
4 - I could always run away if I needed to._

_Now, it didn't all quite click in my melon that neatly. I mean, I couldn't pick it apart, compartmentalize it, and then process it. That would require a depth of emotional maturity that I was nowhere near capable of yet. But, the subconscious mind is a world of its own kind, and those types of things can snap together without any lucidity or awareness._

_Unfortunately, when that happens, they usually snap together all wrong._

_So what did all of this mean in my eleven-year-old brain?_

_How did I connect the dots into a highly-functioning coping mechanism without even realizing it?_

_Simple really..._

_The way that I really saw it was: I could soak up all of the attention and spoils that were being thrown my way, and I didn't really have to trust anyone to do that, because I could just split if I wanted to._

_See?_

_How easy was that?_

_So, I'd decided to just feed my narcissism and see how it went. Running away was always there, like a security blanket. _

_So that's what I'd been doing for the last two months, and so far, so good. I mean, things were really looking up. It was Christmas, and this year, both Kyla and I were going to get a present: we'd be officially together and officially adopted._

_Kyla and I were both Davies as of midnight the previous night. _

_The only fly in my ointment was that this would be my last night sharing a room with Spencer. _

_I glanced over at her in the dark and smiled to myself. The sun was just starting to come up outside and my anticipation had my heart beating in my toes. _

_Spencer wasn't anxious at all, completely unfazed at all by the Christmas hoopla. She was a very rounded and grounded individual, as I was coming to learn. But part of that, due to her very nuclear life, was just from years of practice. _

_For me, however, this was entirely new and sparkly, and I was coming apart at the seams. She'd tried valiantly to sleep, but I'd kept her up for most of the night because I knew that I'd get to see Kyla in the morning._

_And well, picking on Spencer was just plain fun. _

_So, she'd get to that place where she was just on the precipice of falling into a dream, and I'd reel her back in by saying something that was on my mind. _

_And man was my mind was in a tizzy._

_She handled it with grace, bless her. That is, until she just couldn't stay awake any longer. She finally got fed up about two hours ago and insisted that we go to sleep so that Santa could come. _

_You should have seen her face when I'd told her that Santa wasn't real._

_What, she didn't cry or anything..._

_And it was true. I mean, he'd never visited my house. If he was real, he had some serious explaining to do..._

_Besides, we were too old for that stuff. She couldn't still have possibly believed that he was real. And if she did, it was time to break free of the largest, purposefully perpetuated deception on the planet. I mean, it was right up there with Michael Jackson's nose and Dolly Parton's tits._

_But the playful shove that she'd delivered to my shoulder was answer enough, even though she'd given me a real one anyway. "Santa may not be real, but Christmas is about magic, Ash. Sometimes, it just feels good to believe..."_

_I loved the way that she said my name. It didn't feel so shameful anymore._

_And I couldn't argue with her. The things that had been happening in my life were, indeed, quite magical._

_I heard someone moving down the hallway and failing at stealth, and I already knew that it was Spencer's older brother, Glen. He was such an ass, but he made me laugh - at him, not with him - and I took a slightly perverse pleasure in antagonizing him. _

_He took it all in stride._

_Clay, the adopted brother, was probably my favorite though, aside from Spencer, of course. He was just like Mr. C. I mean, they weren't related by blood, but he exuded kindness, patience, and a quiet strength._

_All of them did, really. Well, except for Mrs. C. Don't misunderstand, she was perfectly pleasant. It's not like she was mean to me or anything, but she was more stand-offish... wary maybe? _

_It was just a difference of where Mr. C handed out big, full hugs like they were Halloween-candy, she more or less just rigidly squeezed a shoulder when expected._

_I heard the door creak open and glanced over to see, sure enough, Glen's ugly mug peeking inside. The room was now washed in the gray light of the newly rising sun, and he flashed a toothless grin at me before holding a finger to his lips in a gesture to be quiet._

_I frowned, not sure what he was doing, that is until he flung the door open, and with a guttural yell of squeaky, prepubescent-boy glory, took a flying leap onto the bed. His weight and the buoyancy of the mattress sent a squawking Spencer into a flailing panic that then launched him over the side and onto the floor with a thud. _

_Me?_

_Well, I'd tucked in on myself just in time to brace for impact, and I was laughing so hard that my already full bladder was screaming._

_And it only got better, for me anyway._

_Spencer was sitting up ram-rod straight, her hair was tangled on her head, her eyes were unfocused, and there was a spectacularly dumb expression on her face as her mind tried to slog, rather slowly I might add, through the events that had just taken place._

_And when it all finally registered for her, well, that's when she really lost it. _

_"GLEN!"_

_She threw back her covers, or tried, having to first fight the tangle of sheets around her feet to free herself._

_It was a battle of epic proportions. But the war was not yet won..._

_"God, what is wrong with you?!"_

_She finally emerged from the linens, grabbed her pillow, and just as Glen got to his knees, she engaged in a rousing game of whack-a-mole with his already bruised head._

_"HEY," he protested between vicious swipes. "Come on! It's Christmas!"_

_He tried to get his arms over his face to shield himself from the onslaught, but Spencer was dishing out some serious punishment._

_It took at least ten hard, rapid-fire whaps with the whizzing pillow, the sound so loud and painful that I flinched with each one, before the ire finally drained from her system._

_She was such a brute..._

_Her pause allowed Glen to stumble to his feet but she was still able to land one final, swift kick to his ass as he ran for the door that jettisoned him into the hallway._

_She slammed it shut behind him and immediately dumped herself face-down in the bed with an exhausted groan._

_The noise and the way that her hair covered her whole head sort of reminded me of Cousin It, and I found my already precarious situation growing dire._

_I was in desperate need of a bathroom, my stomach felt like I'd done a million crunches, and I couldn't get the air back into my lungs._

_There's no way I would make the short distance to the bathroom._

_Spencer's head shot up and she yelled, "Hey."_

_She smacked me hard on the arm and it hurt. _

_"You let him, didn't you," she accused._

_I shook my head, only able to sputter between laughs. _

_"I swear..." Deep breath. "I didn't..." Splutter. "Know until-" Cough and hiccup. "Was too..." Gasp. "Late."_

_Spencer started laughing with me, giving me one more good pinch in my already aching sides. I deserved it though. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have saved her._

_When I finally got myself under control, I raced for the bathroom, spending several minutes waiting for all of that stuff... down there... to do what it magically does._

_When I came back out, Spencer was hopping up and down waiting for a turn, and I shook my head at her as she raced inside. _

_"Why didn't you use the other one downstairs," I asked._

_I mean, logic..._

_I heard a muffled, "Shut up, Ash..."_

_"COME ON, YOU GUYS! THE RENTS ARE UP AND WE'RE ALL WAITING!"_

_God, Glen had a voice that carried with un-natural acoustics. I could tell that he was in the living room, down stairs, on the other side of the house, and yet his bellow still made me cringe._

_I grabbed Spencer's favorite green hoodie off of her computer chair and zipped it on, unconsciously burying my nose in my shoulder. _

_It smelled amazing._

_She finally emerged and stopped dead in her tracks, putting her hands on her hips._

_"Hey, that's my favorite," she complained._

_I crinkled my nose at her Peter Pan pose and said simply, "I know."_

_She shook her head and eyed the sweater longingly as she grabbed her lesser loved red one and slung it on grudgingly. She poked and pinched me the entire run down the stairs and we were slightly breathless from giggles as we entered the living room._

_All joking stopped and I felt my jaw hit the floor. _

_Even after a good haul of stolen treasures was laid out on the floor of my room to be marveled over, I'd never seen anything like this in my life. Presents, some big and some small, were stacked ceiling high like brightly colored building blocks creating modern mountains throughout the large room._

_There was hardly room for all of the animate objects to sit, but that was kind of nice, because Spencer and I had to cram ourselves together in the last remaining armchair._

_Now, in retrospect, I realize that some of the things that I'm remembering sound a little creepy, like at any moment I might start sniffing her panties and cutting off my ears in devotion. But it wasn't like that. I wasn't obsessed with her and it certainly wasn't sexual. _

_My only experience or understanding of sex was, well, you know... _

_It was more the fact that, while I didn't realize it, I trusted her completely. She was probably the only person that I really trusted. And I was so starved for emotional and physical comfort that I craved it._

_I needed to be hugged, and held, and pinched, and poked, and stroked, and just loved. Spencer gave that to me freely, and that's what made this relationship the most life-altering that I'd ever know._

_She was the first person to reach me on the inside at a time when I didn't think that I had any value._

_So I soaked it up greedily, unashamedly._

_But when the family started opening presents, all of the warm and fuzzy feelings drained away as I realized that not a single one of those presents would be for me. _

_I'd never had presents before, except for the best present ever: Al, so that was nothing new. But before, I didn't know what I was missing._

_And no, I'm not talking about the presents themselves._

_What makes a present special is that someone thought about you and loved you enough to want to give you something. They weren't just expecting you, they were anticipating you with bells on and a wagging tail._

_Now, of course, I didn't see it quite that logically back then. All I could feel was that I was unloved and an outsider looking in._

_So, as the Carlin family, all smiling faces and playful banter, showed their love for one another, I began to feel very upset._

_I started to pick at the imaginary lint on my borrowed PJ pants, stewing in my self-pity._

_The warm breath near my ear almost made me jump. _

_"Ash, are you okay?"_

_No, I really wasn't, but I couldn't tell her that. This was something else that I would later learn about myself: no matter how much love and attention I received, it would never be enough._

_I should have been thankful. I'd never had it this good. These people didn't owe me anything. If anything, I owed them. But I was immature and selfish, and broken and hurting._

_I smiled at her, but it must not have been convincing, because again, Spencer's eyes revealed all, every thought and expression. And I could see it as plain as day: she knew that I wasn't okay, but she didn't know why. And if I wasn't going to tell her, there was absolutely nothing that she could do to help me. _

_I hadn't learned this yet, but that was probably the worst thing that I could ever do to Spencer Carlin, because she was one of the most compassionate people on the planet._

_But more than that, she's was a fixer. And when she couldn't fix it, it ate away at her._

_I tried to soothe her more convincingly this time. _

_"I just miss Kyla," I whispered back._

_There was a wave of empathetic sadness in those expressive mirrors, but I'd successfully lied to her for the first time in my life, though not nearly the last._

_I mean, it was only half a lie..._

_She put her arm around my shoulders and smiled sweetly at me._

_"She'll be here soon."_

_"I know," I said. And I did, but that's the nature of lies, even half ones: they compound, quickly and even innocently._

_"I bet that I could cheer you up," she continued brightly._

_I smiled back. It was impossible not to._

_"How?"_

_She pushed out of the chair and my embrace, leaving me instantly cold, but she was back in a flash with a card in her hands. _

_"This is from me," she said while holding it out._

_I took it and noticed the delicate scrawl of her childish hand, "To My Best Friend..."_

_I stroked a finger over the words, hoping that I could physically touch their meaning, and relishing the fact that I was apparently hers as much as she was mine. _

_Open it," she prodded more excitedly, maybe even more than I was._

_But I needed a moment, not just to relish it, but to gather my scattered thoughts. I'd lied to her, but she'd still known?_

_She was having none of that though..._

_"Come on! You're killing me, Smalls," she moaned._

_I grinned at her and, in unison, we both chorused, "Hey, yous guys!"_

_That sent us off in peals of laughter. That was one of those movies that she'd exposed me to, and I instantly agreed that it was one of the best movies ever. _

_And, well, it was._

_"God, Ash, come on already," she complained again, trying to swipe the card from me to open it herself._

_That was so not going to happen. _

_I tore it open with exaggerated enthusiasm. _

_"That's the spirit," she whooped._

_A gift certificate presented itself. It was for the School of Rock in Alpha Park, and not only did I have guitar lessons for a whole year, but I had vocal lessons too._

_My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth as if it were made of peanut butter, and my hands shook like I'd contracted Parkinson's. _

_All in all, I felt like Charlie holding the golden ticket._

_I looked up at her speechless and just stared at her in awe for several long moments. She could have given me a toothbrush and I'd have loved it, but instead she gave me the sun, the moon, and the stars - maybe even the whole galaxy._

_And this is where another realization slapped me in the face: I had nothing to give her in return. But worse, I hadn't even considered that in all of my wallowing._

_At least that hurt just as bad, if not more, than the fact that I had thought that I wouldn't be getting anything. _

_All I could do was throw my arms around her neck and cry. And she held me, smelling like sunlight and jasmine and friendship._

_"I don't have anything to give you," I croaked out._

_She pulled back and I loosened my hold. Her face was all smiles, all Spencer, and she said the only thing that someone like her could._

_"But you already have. You gave me my best friend."_

_She lifted the envelope and danced it insanely in front of my eyes as proof, and I smothered her again, both of us laughing this time. _

_"Thank you," I said lamely._

_It wasn't nearly enough, but there just weren't words good enough for her. _

_Nothing would ever be good enough for her._

_Somewhere in the back of my addled mind I heard the doorbell ring, but it wasn't until Kyla squealed my name that I released one girl to find an equally precious one in my arms._

_Once I'd squeezed the life out of her and checked her over to be sure she was indeed healthy and intact, I spent a good half-an-hour with her on my lap as she went on and on and on about all of the things that she'd seen, how'd she'd played with a ferret, and how they were like really squishy cats that smelled like our old house. _

_And I just absorbed the sound of her voice._

_I could tell that pandemonium was breaking out all around me, all of it joyful, but I just relished the solid feel of her in my arms and let some of my worry fall away. Nobody would be taking her away from me this time. They never would again, unless it was from lifeless hands._

_She was huge, so much bigger than the last time that I saw her. Some of the baby fat had tapered off a bit though, and she was as smart as a whip. _

_The only thing that ended her excited litany was when Christine pointed her in the direction of her own stack of presents._

_I took a moment to study this woman, my guardian._

_Christine had a severe face and sharp eyes, and I'll admit that when I'd first met her, I disliked her immediately. But the more that I spent time with her, the more that I realized that she was just wary. _

_She'd been hurt too. _

_A hard countenance is the result of a hard life. We were alike, she and I. And I had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't tolerate any shit from me. That didn't mean that I wouldn't push those boundaries. In fact, it might have secured that inevitable outcome._

_Such was life._

_But despite all of that that, I could tell that while she was a stern woman, she wasn't trying to hurt us or use us in some way. Of course, I didn't trust her, but she was more than tolerable._

_Kyla chewed her way through the gifts with relish, of which, there were many. Most of it was clothes and other necessities because she didn't have any of those things. But there were plenty of toys and baubles to keep her fascinated as well._

_Kyla's joy was my joy, and I thanked our new guardian for it. _

_"Thank you, Mrs. Davies."_

_She stroked the wavy, auburn curls from my eyes gently, almost timidly, and simply said, "Call me Christine, and you're welcome."_

_On closer inspection, I could tell by the redness around her brown eyes that she had been crying at some point, and wondered what had happened to hurt her so badly._

_But I didn't really need to know the specifics, because in all of the ways that mattered, I already knew. I'd lived through it too. It might have had a different face or circumstance, but the outcome was the same._

_I continued to watch Kyla, but Christine stopped her when she reached for yet another gift. "Kyla, those are Ashley's presents."_

_I looked at her disbelievingly for a few moments, something quiet and indiscernible passing between us. And before I could chicken out, I gave her a short, jilted hug. _

_The massacre of Christmas paper that followed was waist deep by the time that I was finished._

_I'd never seen so many clothes that didn't have holes or stains on them. _

_I suddenly couldn't wait to get dressed. _

_There was also an MP3 player and several CDs, for which I swooned, but the last gift nearly gave me an honest-to-God heart-attack: an electric-fucking-guitar, complete with a small amplifier._

_I was in rock and roll heaven. _

_Spencer had to pry it forcibly from my fingers, but apparently there were traditions that had to be honored. Besides, I was more than ready to get the full Christmas experience. Who knew when I might get another?_

_First, because Mrs. C was a bit of a control freak, was the time-honored tradition of clean-up. To a chorus of groans, we all pitched in to pick up the mess and stuff it into trash bags._

_Glen got the bright idea to be playful and stuff some of it down Spencer's pants while she was bent over, and I don't remember how we'd overpowered him, but it was funny watching him try to struggle free of the ribbon binding his hands and feet together._

_Once he was hogtied and gagged on the living room floor, a pretty red bow squarely stuck to his forehead like some demented, BDSM elf, it was time to get dressed so that we could start helping with the meal._

_I didn't have the slightest idea of how to cook. Kyla and I had survived on dry cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. But, as I was coming to understand, I could rely on Spencer to show me._

_Mr. C was waiting for us when we entered the kitchen, fully showered and dressed. I still had the green hoodie and Spencer didn't know it, but she was never getting it back. _

_Mr. C was wearing an apron that proclaimed him a genius and a funny-looking white hat, and for someone whose arm was elbow deep in a turkey's ass, he was way too happy._

_"Well, it's about time you girls showed up." _

_He smiled warmly and his arm made a slurping pop noise as he liberated it._

_That poor, poor bird..._

_"You two are all set up over by the stove, Spence. Make me proud."_

_Spencer grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the range where several ingredients and a large chrome pot waited. She picked up one of the aprons and handed it to me. _

_It was covered in a gaudy pink and blue floral pattern, and bunches of lacey trim adorned the edges. There were even little pink bows and pockets..._

_I lifted it and looked to Spencer to see her putting on an apron as well, but hers looked normal and told me that I should kiss her. _

_"Come on, Ash. Put it on so we can get started."_

_She was beaming with excitement, but she had to know that I wasn't going to wear this. I didn't have much in the way of clothes, or I didn't used to, and I wasn't a picky person, but this..._

_It looked like something you'd find in a blue-haired granny's house, with a lot of cats, and creepy dolls..._

_It was itchy and it smelled funny._

_I glanced over at Mr. C to see him whistling as he happily fisted his bird, and lowered my voice so that he wouldn't hear me._

_"Spence, I mean..." _

_I was speechless so I just held the apron out to her. She held it up and inspected it closely, and I was relieved when she nodded and seemed to understand what I was saying._

_God, I was so stupid..._

_She had it around my neck and was tying it behind my back before I even knew that it was happening._

_Just about that time, Glen walked in with a sour expression on his face. He took one look at me and all other thoughts of retribution flew out of the window because he was laughing so hard that he could barely speak. _

_However, nothing - not even asphyxiation - was going to stop him from rubbing his gratification in my face._

_"I was going to tell you guys to expect some serious paybacks, but..." He gestured to me. "I think this will do just fine."_

_One day, when he least expected it..._

_"Lay off, Glen," Spencer said, turning me to face her._

_She stepped back, looked me up and down, and then clapped her hands together under her chin._

_"You look so cute, Ash! Just like Betty Crocker," she cooed._

_I looked around the room trying to find something, anything, to threaten her with._

_My eyes lighted on a spoon and I felt what King Arthur must have felt the first time that he saw Excalibur. _

_I lifted it slowly and grinned evilly._

_Spencer backed away before finding another and holding it up in challenge._

_It was to be a duel then..._

_I was just about to lash out when Mr. C's amused voice interrupted._

_"No rough housing in the kitchen, girls."_

_I glared and then pointed the spoon at her. "This isn't over."_

_She glanced down at the apron before meeting my eyes again. "Still totally worth it..."_

_God, I couldn't win, so I stopped trying._

_"Truce," Spencer asked._

_I gave a long-suffering sigh and she beamed, bouncing over to the stove and turning on the burner under the big pot._

_"What are you making," I asked._

_"This," she said. "Is only the best stuff on the planet."_

_She lifted a container of Hershey's cocoa powder and held it as if it were something indescribably precious._

_"Chocolate...," she said simply, a dreamy expression on her face._

_I laughed and watched as she started to measure things into the pot, and something warm began to blossom in my chest. _

_This was what it was like to have a family._

_They weren't really mine and I was on borrowed time, but either way, I was in deep trouble._

_Because when it came time to run, it was going to be impossible for me to leave these people._

_You couldn't run if you loved them._

_And I was falling in love._

* * *

I lean forward and take another sip of my cocoa before glancing up at Spencer. "I remember the first time I had this."

She doesn't respond.

"You remember?"

"Of course I do," she sounds sort of offended.

I nod. That was a ridiculous question. Of course she remembers. She's not the one that bailed...

"I'd never forget that day," she adds.

Me neither...

"It was a good day," I respond with a sad smile.

She raises her glass in mock salute.

"To better times," she says a little bitterly.

I sigh and raise my own glass before taking another sip.

I'd never tire of the taste.

"I still don't know what happened to my hoodie...," she says off-handedly.

I swallow my cocoa very hard and it scrapes all of the way down. I can't help the cough that follows.

She's watching me carefully, but she's not going to get anything out of me.

"You okay...," she asks sweetly.

I narrow my eyes at her. She's still fishing.

She rolls her eyes. "Are you _ever_ going to tell me what you did with it?"

I don't play innocent very well, but I give it the good college try.

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

She scoffs and takes another draft from her mug.

"Whatever," she says with a casual shrug of her shoulders, but I know that it's still eating her alive.

A few quiet moments pass.

"God, you were such a spaz back then...," she says out of nowhere.

That's not how I remember it.

I frown at her, which makes her chuckle, and I remember just how much I used to love the sound of it.

It's not diminished.

"Me...," I ask incredulously.

She nods and I snort.

"You're still hung up on that hoodie, and you're calling me a spaz?"

She shrugs again and I shake my head.

God, if anyone was a spaz, it was her.

* * *

_I'd like to go ahead and take a poll: for all of you looking at the screen, how many of you are girls? _

_Don't be shy now. Go on, raise a hand if applicable._

_A little higher, please..._

_Okay, cool. Most of us are the fairer sex._

_Now, I'm going ask you another question: how many of you wear make-up?_

_..._

_Wow, okay the numbers just went to about half, and I can see at least one gentleman holding his hand up in the back. _

_*shrug* To each their own..._

_Who am I to judge?_

_This is good though. I wouldn't mind some male input on the subject too._

_Alright, one more: how many of you have had a person in your life sit you down and try to expose you to the glorious world of frilly girlhood?_

_Okay, guys too. So it would seem, gender aside, that we've all had that one sadistic person in our lives, be it the bestie or the mom or the flaming gay boy with more fashion sense in his little finger than the entire lesbian collective._

_And this means that you already understand the fear of someone coming at your forcibly exposed eyeball with a sharp, pointed stick covered in bat shit._

_Right?!_

_That's real fear..._

_It's okay. _

_Breathe... it's over now._

_But still..._

_Nothing is more painful, except maybe childbirth, or so I hear. _

_And what makes the pain worse is the indignation that follows. Usually it's your own fault that it happened, even though you had absolutely no control over the flinch that caused said terrible pain, stinging, and endless watering._

_Your eye just saw it coming and flipped the fuck out of its own accord._

_And rightly so..._

_Okay, so now you probably want to know why I'm going on and on about this and asking all of these crazy ass questions. And you really want to know how this has anything to do with Spencer being a spaz, right?_

_Well, I'm going to tell you._

_So, it was summer, and kids love the summertime. There are a trillion different reasons why: week long sleepovers, sleeping late, no homework, parents aren't home for most of the day, swimming weather, later curfews..._

_I mean, I could go on forever._

_But if you want to simplify it, break it down into two easy words, the answer is simply: school's out._

_Some guys even wrote a song about it this one time._

_Summertime is this magical break in the year where kids get to run the fuck amuck. _

_And they love it. _

_Well, as someone who'd never stepped foot in a public school, I just didn't get it. Spencer, however, had been talking about nothing else for more than two weeks and making all of these grand plans for how we'd spend her magical three months off. _

_And, I mean, hey, she was happy so I was happy for her, but it just didn't make any sense to me._

_It was a day like any other day, especially for me. _

_I wasn't going to have a summer. I still had to do my home schooling with Christine, and I was fine with that. I was determined that within another six months, I would successfully complete all of the appropriate placement tests so that I could start school the following August with Spencer._

_I studied all of the time, cramming two years of education into one year's time, but I loved to learn, especially if it was computers or music, so it was all good. _

_Hell, I was learning to program and it wasn't even required. I just liked it. I felt like a goddess sitting there in front of my computer screen throwing in commands and then specifying what they would return._

_I was master of my domain, my world, and no other could defeat me._

_Muwahahahaha..._

_Of course, nothing would ever come close to music, not even programming. But, that's why I was trying to combine the two, and the results would take me places that I had never dreamed of. _

_But, I'm getting off topic here..._

_The point is: I hadn't experienced the whole summer syndrome thing yet._

_So on this day, the first day of summer, Spencer was bouncing off of the fucking walls. We'd spent all morning doing nothing because there was nothing to really do. The ocean was a day away; we couldn't go anywhere alone, and anyone who could take us was working or busy with their own life. _

_We were twelve-years-old, it was three pm on a Friday, and we lived in Ohio. There was literally nothing that we could do and nowhere that we could go._

_All of her grand plans had gone right down the drain. It wasn't a very good start._

_This left her wired for sound but no one was listening._

_I'd tried to talk her into a movie, preferably horror - my favorite, her least favorite - but she just couldn't sit still. _

_Her pacing was making me crazy, and frustrated, but I wasn't entirely devoid of empathy._

_Come to think of it, if I had been more apathetic, I might have saved my eye, but... ce la vie._

_So, after suggesting everything under the sun that might help her burn off some of her excess energy - well, everything but flat out jogging in place - and having all such ideas shot down as too boring, we were at a stalemate._

_I then decided that she could pace and freak out all that she liked. _

_I was going to watch some television._

_I immediately flipped it to fearnet, only to quickly flip it to Nickelodeon when I caught Spencer's disapproving glare in my periphery. _

_I sighed. Invader Zim it was..._

_I was able to follow along pretty well, despite the fact that with Spencer pacing it was like watching television through a strobe light. Every few seconds she'd pass in front of the screen, only to turn and do it again. _

_She had a good rhythm going though, so it was okay. I could anticipate._

_Then she began to sort of just stand in front of the screen. It had to be on purpose. _

_"Spence, come on, just chill, would you?"_

_There was that glare again. But, this time, she finally slumped defeated onto the futon next to me. That was much better._

_The show continued and I felt less nervous now that she was being still, but about every minute or so Spencer would sigh dramatically._

_I tried to ignore it, but after about ten minutes, I was going to have to either figure something out to appease her or smother her._

_I rolled my eyes when the answer finally came to me. I didn't like doing it, mainly because Spencer always chose the same songs. And while I loved all of the attention that she gave me, well, it somehow felt, really, really personal sometimes, like overwhelmingly personal._

_But... desperate times and all that._

_I turned off the television and made my way over to the corner of my room. I could feel her eyes tracking me curiously the whole way, until I finally stopped, stooped, and came back up with Al. _

_She brightened immediately, turning and tucking one leg under the other to get comfortable and give me her full attention. _

_I sat down on the futon facing her, propping the guitar up on my bent knee and settling it into my comfort zone._

_I looked at her and I could tell that she was more than ready, but I wanted her to squirm, to really earn it this time._

_I took my sweet fucking time tuning the guitar with harmonics until they were absolutely perfect, but in all reality, the guitar was already tuned. Then, I sat there in silence, waiting just a while longer because I loved to torture her._

_Finally, I could go no further, and I was forced to let her off of the hook._

_"Which one?"_

_"Wedding Singer."_

_She bounced a little._

_I rolled my eyes a lot._

_So predictable..._

_I pulled the capo from the head and settled it on the second fret. This little clamp was a life-saver. It allowed me to play any song within the parameters of my vocal range. It was especially helpful with male lead songs, just like this one._

_I started strumming the chords in the appropriate succession and singing out the silly lyrics that were actually incredibly sweet, if not too sweet._

_How she loved this movie though..._

_And while I would never admit it to her, I loved it too._

_"I want to make you smile when you're feeling sad, carry you around when you're arthritis is bad. All I wanna do, is grow old with you."_

_I chanced a look at her to see that she'd relaxed considerably. _

_I thanked all that was holy..._

_"I'll make you medicine when your tummy aches, build you a fire if the furnace breaks. Oh, it could be so nice growing old with you."_

_She leaned her head against the backrest of the futon, an almost wistful expression gracing her youthful face._

_She was such a sap..._

_"I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold. I'll need you, feed you, even let you hold the remote control..."_

_We always smiled at that part. I wasn't sure if she found it cute for the obvious joke that it was, or if like me, it was because no matter who was holding the remote, I never got a say in what we were watching anyway._

_I slowed the tempo for the last part, making the notes ring softer and sweeter, and meeting her eyes to over exaggerate the sappiness of it, as well as to relieve some of that tension that I was talking about earlier._

_"So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed when you've had too much to drink. Oh, I could be the -"_

_I stopped playing, as was tradition. _

_And she said, "Girl," as was tradition._

_And to complete this tradition, I finished the final notes. _

_"That grows old with you. I wanna grow old with you."_

_Okay, so normally, about this point, she'd clap excitedly and then sing my praises to the heavens before requesting another, but something was different._

_That wistful expression was still on her face, her head still resting on the backrest, and she was quiet, too quiet._

_An awkward silence fell, and she kept staring at me. _

_After a few long minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. _

_"What?"_

_She breathed deeply and lifted her head, her left hand snaking out to brush a haphazard lock of hair from my eyes._

_"You're really beautiful..."_

_I felt my eyebrows climb up my forehead. No one in my life had ever said that to me. I certainly didn't believe it. I mean, I wasn't ugly. I was just me, a tomboy. _

_There was nothing special to see here._

_My new clothes, even though they fit, were still just a little baggy, and I wanted them that way. I never wore anything that wasn't jeans and a tee-shirt and a pair of chucks, and I never did my hair or nails or any of that other girly stuff._

_I did natural. _

_I did me._

_I think the girliest thing about me was that I had begun to shave my legs and underarms, but that was pretty much it._

_Spencer though, she was the epitome of feminine. She liked frills and bells and whistles._

_"Thanks," I replied timidly, not really sure what to say but feeling the need to say something if for no other reason than to just fill the silence._

_And then, she went and scared the shit out of me. _

_She shouted... for no reason._

_"OH MY GOD!"_

_I jumped so high in my seat that I nearly dropped Al..._

_Seriously not cool, Spence..._

_She grabbed my arm and began to pull me out of the house, guitar still in hand._

_"Spencer, what's going on?"_

_"I know what we're going to do," she said almost cryptically._

_I waited until we were nearly across our connected lawns for her to complete that thought, but she didn't._

_"Well, what is it?"_

_The grin that she turned on me could only be described at predatory. And then she said the words that I'd learned to fear when they tumbled from her mouth._

_"You'll see."_

_She only said that when she knew that I wouldn't approve. Her silence was a tactic, a good one on her part. She knew that all she had to do was get me past the point of return on a venture before I realized that I didn't want to do it._

_What she didn't know was that, while I'd hate it, I'd do it anyway just to be with her._

_That didn't mean that I wasn't going to complain._

_"Spence," I whined._

_But it was useless; I knew it, so I resigned myself to my fate, which was her bathroom. Al was placed on her bed on the way in, I was promptly seated on her toilet, the switch flipped on the radio behind me, and the crate-sized container on the counter was pulled open with a flourish, little trays and secret compartments fanning out and filled to the brim._

_I looked from it up to her, beyond confused. _

_"Make-up?"_

_And once I'd said it, I'd somehow made it real, because that's when it finally clicked. I stood immediately, holding up my hands in the hopes that they might create some sort of force field that she wouldn't be able to penetrate._

_"Spencer, no... no, no, no. That's not my thing. You know that..."_

_But this was a small space and she was blocking the exit, and my force field was made of dead hopes and unfulfilled dreams._

_And, the force was strong in this one. _

_I found myself re-seated and watching her face get closer and closer to mine. She then shut off my peripheral vision by bracing her arms on my shoulders. _

_I felt boxed in, trapped, and entranced all at once._

_Because I was._

_I gulped._

_"Have you ever even tried make-up?"_

_"Well, no. But..."_

_She snapped back up, extremely pleased with herself, and my shoulders slumped._

_I was fairly certain that I wouldn't like it. I liked being clean, especially my face, hair, and fingernails. I was compulsive about it. I never wanted to feel grubby again. I'd had enough of that in my lifetime._

_And make-up would make me feel dirty; I was certain of it._

_But she wasn't going to relent._

_Oh well, I resigned myself, I could always wash my face a few hundred times. And what was a little humiliation among friends?_

_First things first, Spencer pulled out two hair ties, pulling both of our manes up off of our necks and out of our faces. _

_That I could handle. I loved having my hair played with._

_Then she picked up a bottle of runny paste that looked like melted skin. _

_"This is concealer."_

_What were we concealing, exactly?_

_She smeared it all over my face._

_Oh, okay, my face..._

_And this was what I was worried about. I immediately didn't like the feel of it._

_I felt like a birthday cake getting iced._

_Why not just use a butter knife, Spence?_

_"You don't need a lot of concealer because you have awesome skin. So, I'm just going to put on a light coat and then remove the excess with a clean cloth. That gets rid of streaks too."_

_Her voice and her knowledge on the subject combined with her overly-excited demeanor and I immediately thought of a perfume counter saleswoman._

_As if to solidify this strange alternate universe Spencer's existence, she scrunched her face up. "You really don't want those."_

_Once she'd coated me, she wiped off the excess, and I had to admit that I couldn't tell that I was wearing anything after the rag did its job._

_In fact, my skin felt softer._

_She then put a layer of powder on, and cleared the excess again._

_"This just gets rid of shiny spots."_

_I didn't know that my skin was shiny..._

_I got that tingling sensation in my nose as the powder made a cloud around us. You know the one? But, of course, no sneeze was forthcoming. _

_God, that was the worst..._

_Just sneeze already..._

_When she'd finished I swiped at my nose to relieve the sting, and my face didn't feel any different at all, so whatever. _

_The next part was actually kind of nice. I just closed my eyes and let the brush tickle over my eyelids._

_It took her a good ten minutes though. _

_"There you go," she said finally._

_And then, everything went down a fucking hill of doom. _

_When I first saw that torturous device she called an applicator, I thought that it looked like a miniature battle mace. And I'd swear that she'd swung it a few times like Xena doing tricks with her sword._

_Then she dipped it in this black goop, and the smell made me scrunch up my nose._

_"That smells disgusting, Spence."_

_She smirked._

_That was disconcerting..._

_"Okay, I'm going to put this on your eyelashes, but you have to hold very still."_

_I nodded and then her words registered and I snapped away from her._

_"You're going to put that thing in my eye?!"_

_She giggled. "No, silly, I'm just going to brush it on your eyes lashes."_

_I felt like something was very wrong with the world when people felt the need to comb their eyelashes._

_She bent down and leaned in very close. "See mine?"_

_Somewhere in my mind I registered that her eyelashes were thick and dark. But mostly, I'd never been this close to her face before. I mean, she was maybe an inch away. _

_I could even feel her breath._

_It was the irises, not lashes, which had me mesmerized. Normal distances had been hiding the little yellow flecks scattered in the shattered crystal of blue, and the outer rings were darker, giving them even more depth._

_Which was surprising because they were already unfathomable._

_She pulled away and again tried to put that thing in my eye, but I snapped away. Only this time, I hadn't even meant to._

_"Ash, seriously. You can't move."_

_"I didn't mean to."_

_She leaned back and lowered her voice. "Do you trust me?"_

_Yowza, that was a loaded question. I mean, first off, who was asking?_

_I wouldn't trust a salesman with a chunk of chewed gum. _

_But Spencer? _

_My immediate answer was no; the truthful answer was yes, and then somewhere between the two was: yes, just not with my eyeballs._

_I copped out, nodding my head once. This seemed to please her. _

_She took my chin firmly in one hand, and I fretfully watched the orbitoclast get closer and closer with the other. _

_The bristles made contact with the lashes and while it felt weird, it was painless. She got through the entire eye without any issue, smiling when she'd finished. _

_She patted my cheek._

_"See, not so bad."_

_'Halfway there' was all I could think. _

_It was almost over._

_She employed this same tactic on the other eye and got through the top part without issue. But I was sort of distracted this time. I liked the way that she was leaning in close and the way that she chewed on her lip in concentration._

_But when she tried to move from the top lashes to the bottom, my eye registered the movement as an attack and... I flinched._

_Of course, this drove the stick right into my eye, grazing those sharp bristles right across the lens._

_I cursed, loudly, but even over my own pain and vocal recriminations, I still heard sweet, innocent Spencer Carlin say the f word._

_My eye refused to open, the sting was an unnatural hell, water poured from it like a leaky faucet, and I had one of my hands over the whole socket to shield it from further assault, but all of that was forgotten as I trained my one good eye on her and stared in slack-jawed wonder._

_I wasn't sure if I'd heard her correctly._

_But then, she was giving her guilt away, and it was so damn cute: her cheeks were flaming; her eyes were round with shock; and she had a hand clamped over her mouth._

_Now, don't misunderstand, Spencer said things like ass or hell, maybe even the occasional damn, but she had to be supremely provoked. Mostly, Glen was the cause. And even then, it was few and far between._

_In the whole of our two years together, I'd heard maybe four._

_But at that moment, she had been channeling me. She'd said fuck at least five different times in quick succession. _

_And she'd said it like she meant it._

_And it was loud..._

_It was awesome!_

_I was speechless; she was speechless, and after a moment, we both started laughing. _

_"God, Spence, you should have seen your face!"_

_She chucked me on the shoulder. "Shut up."_

_I was wearing a shit-eating grin and she was looking at me with dismay. "I'll never live that down, will I?"_

_"Hell to the nizz-o!"_

_She sighed in resignation and began to rummage through her torture tools while the image of her in shock and the sound of her voice played over and over again in my mind. _

_I wanted to remember this moment with intense clarity._

_Mostly so that I could recount it up with intense clarity._

_"So, are you going to tell me what that stuff was anyway? It burns like... battery acid."_

_It was her turn to grin._

_"Guano," she said._

_Guano..._

_I'd never heard of it. _

_"What's guano?"_

_"Bat poop." _

_She delivered that little bit of late information with a little too much joy._

_I wanted to gag, and I considered it, but when she started laughing I knew that I'd been had. _

_I narrowed my eye at her. _

_"You're twisted, Spencer."_

_She chuckled again but finally explained. "It's just wax and a dye, Ash."_

_I sighed in relief and rubbed at my still stinging eye. It was only just able to open again._

_Spencer smacked my hand away. "Don't ruin my work!"_

_I stared at her incredulously. "But it hurts..."_

_Wow, she crossed her arms over her chest, completely unaffected by my suffering. _

_"Beauty is pain," she said seriously._

_And with that, she grabbed another stick from the counter, this one longer and thinner. She took off the cap and again, if you can even believe it, started coming for my eyes!_

_That was it. I'd had enough. I was putting my foot down._

_"Don't even try it," I said menacingly._

_She stopped, training those pathetic, puppy-dog eyes on me, and began a full-fledged pout._

_"No," I said more forcefully._

_Her lip drooped a little more. _

_"Please, Ash..."_

_God help me..._

_It took effort, but I maintained._

_"No."_

_She raised two fingers. _

_"Last thing for the eyes. Girl scout's honor."_

_I gaped at her. _

_"There's more after the eyes?!"_

_And as an afterthought, "And since when are you a girl scout?"_

_I chortled. "I mean, you don't hike or sew, and you can't build a fire to save your life..."_

_She wasn't amused. _

_She tried again..._

_I was going to stand and run away, but there just wasn't room. _

_As if to mock me, the radio playing in the background started a Godsmack song._

_Spencer grabbed my chin, and I knew that I was trapped._

_In hell..._

_I squeezed my eyes shut and braced. I'd never let her break me. Never!_

_And then, she let me go._

_I didn't trust it, so I cracked one eye open and glanced at her. _

_She was capping the stick. _

_"Already done."_

_Wow, really?_

_Okay, that one wasn't so bad. _

_I exhaled. This was exhausting._

_She grabbed a little tube of something very faintly pink and pulled out another fucking stick, if you can believe it._

_"Just your lips, I promise."_

_I watched her very carefully. I didn't want any surprises and she was losing trust by the second. But true to her word, she swiped the applicator over my lips a few times, dabbing in some places._

_She then made a show of rubbing her lips together and I instinctively mimicked the action._

_The gloss I really liked. It tasted kind of fruity._

_Smiling, she stood to her full height and nodded in self-satisfaction._

_"All done."_

_There were not words for how much that meant to me. _

_Spencer took my hands and pulled me up, and before I knew it, I was in front of the mirror and having a crisis._

_I didn't even recognize myself._

_"Wow," I said._

_"You ain't lyin'," she agreed._

_My eyes looked... I don't know, smokey, my lashes fanning out attractively and the eyeliner framing it all off to make my eyes really stand out._

_She put her hands on my arms and rested her head on my shoulder from behind, smiling at me in the mirror. _

_"You're beautiful."_

_I was more focused on her face though. _

_"So are you, Spence."_

_Her smile broadened and so did my heart. _

_"So," she said, pulling back. "Now we need to work on the hair."_

_I glared at her in the mirror and she chuckled as she left the room, but then, as I looked at my face again, I found that I really, really liked how I looked._

_But more than that, I felt feminine and almost... empowered somehow._

_I smiled at myself, feeling truly good about being me for another first of my life._

_Yeah, I was totally a girl, but more than that, I wanted to be. _

_Well played, Spencer. Well played..._

* * *

I shake my head.

"_You _were the spaz, Spence. I was the hot one."

"You're so full of crap, Davies."

I lean back in the chair and fold one leg over the other, and she mirrors my pose.

Challenge accepted.

"I'll start," she says.

I nod curtly.

"Your first day of public school."

Fuck, she would go there...

* * *

_So, I'm fairly confident that if I were to tell you that I'm a giant nerd, maybe even a geek, that you wouldn't be surprised._

_Right, okay, so we're on the same page._

_I always had been and I always would be. But who says that a gerd, yes gerd, can't be hot?_

_Well, Spencer opened up an entire world for me that night in her bathroom. _

_As a result, we'd spent most of that summer shopping and I learned what it meant to be a real girl. I got a haircut, long layers and wavy auburn curls with a few highlights, and it only magnified the person that I was becoming: strong, confident, and unashamed. _

_I learned the finer points in skin and hair care, and of course, applying mascara. But eyeliner, well, what rock star would be complete without it?_

_So, I found that fine line between rocker and princess. And in the process, I found myself._

_There was still the gerd part in there, but she really only reared her head when I was reading or sitting at my computer. I had a very fashionable set of thick-rimmed reading glasses and a very uber leet Alienware laptop._

_I was all set, for the most part. I just had one last thing to do to keep moving forward in this life that I was making for myself, that Spencer was opening up for me: public school._

_Okay, well, it shouldn't be a shock for me to tell you that within that same year of self-discovery, not only did I qualify to start at the grade befitting my thirteen years of life, I'd qualified for the advanced classes. _

_But with this came a problem: if I went into the advanced classes, I wouldn't get to see Spencer at all. Well, except for lunch and study hall, but that wasn't nearly enough._

_That was what I was looking forward to about public school. There was absolutely no reason for me to be in that place if I couldn't be with Spencer._

_But, Christine had said that I needed to learn to socialize. _

_Why? _

_I didn't need any other friends. _

_I didn't want any other friends._

_And Spencer rarely hung out with other people. I mean, we practically lived together._

_But the placement tests had already been tallied, and I didn't have a choice. _

_And this is what I was talking about before when I'd mentioned all of the ways that I do and don't fail at life. I'm intelligent, I'm thoughtful, I'm hygiene and fashion aware, and I'm talented. _

_But the emotions..._

_I just never could get a grip on them._

_And I thought that I was having a panic attack. _

_I wasn't going to make it through this day. _

_I glanced over at Spencer with acute longing, needing reassurances, but she was staring out of her window with still droopy eyes._

_She was so not a morning person and I found her inherit grumpiness charming._

_But I was going to need her this day, and I was going to be completely denied._

_And it was all Christine's fault._

_I looked at her face in the rear-view mirror accusingly. She'd put her foot down when I'd tried to opt for the average classes. _

_And now I was soon to be stuck in an unfamiliar place and unfamiliar situation, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. _

_It had me vibrating with nervous energy._

_Just then, something hit me softly in the back of the head. I turned to Kyla in the back of the suburban to find her wearing a strange expression and looking out of her window too. _

_She wasn't a morning person either._

_Hm..._

_I reached behind my head and felt around my neck, but couldn't find whatever it was._

_"Spence...?"_

_"Hm," she looked over at me._

_"Do you see something in my hair?_

_She scooted closer and I turned away to make this treasure hunt easier for her. _

_I heard her gasp and just as I was about to turn around to ask what she'd seen, she put her hands on my shoulders to stop me._

_"No, Ash. Just... hold really, really still, okay?"_

_My heart started to pound. _

_What was it, a spider? _

_I hated spiders..._

_I felt her rooting around in my hair with a very delicate touch and my anxiety doubled. _

_"Spence...?"_

_She understood the plea in my voice and quickly distracted me by tearing several hairs from my scalp._

_"OW! What the hell, Spence!"_

_"Ashley - language."_

_I glanced up to Christine's sharp eyes in the mirror. _

_She and I had come to an agreement about... certain things. There were things long engrained in me, like my mouth, which just weren't going to change. And so long as I didn't do it with other adults or at inappropriate places like school or a pulpit - like I'd step foot near one of those anyway - she'd wouldn't get onto me about it anymore. _

_But in front of Kyla, who was only eight and still had a chance at a less crass vocabulary, it just wasn't acceptable._

_And I could agree with that._

_"Sorry," I mumbled, reaching a hand back to my aching head and looking to Spencer accusingly._

_And that's when I saw it. _

_In her hand sat a clump of sticky, pink gum, a matted collection of my hair still sticking out of it._

_For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill my sister._

_I turned back around to gawp at her, my already frazzled nerves barely holding on by a thin thread. She was still looking out of the window just like before, but there was something else that I hadn't noticed then._

_She was sucking in her lips and screwing up her face. She looked like that old man in the denture commercials. _

_I mean, she was always kind of weird, so facial contortions weren't entirely unexpected. But this... she was trying to hold something in._

_That little shit!_

_I'll kill her..._

_No, death would be too easy. She needs to suffer..._

_A devil appeared on my shoulder and whispered sweet, dark nothings into my ear._

_"Kyla," I cooed sweetly, low enough that Christine wouldn't hear._

_She wouldn't look at me. _

_I took the gum from Spencer and held it up. "Do you see this?"_

_She still wouldn't look up at me but she nodded, clamping a hand over her mouth to hold it together._

_"Any idea how it wound up in my hair?"_

_She shook her head._

_I checked to be sure that Christine wasn't listening before I leaned close to her over my seat, signed my soul over to Satan, and - to my everlasting shame - sought to hurt her._

_"Squishy Cat...," I whispered menacingly. "You'll never see him again."_

_Her terrified eyes snapped to mine._

_"Ever...," I punctuated with a dark purr._

_Of course, she immediately burst into tears. And these weren't the irritating cries of a child throwing a tantrum. These were real, fat, mournful tears._

_I turned back in my seat just in time for Christine to ask what was going on._

_Kyla continued to sob and I couldn't speak because I wasn't sure what had just happened. I mean, that was so MEAN of me, but I was spazzing and she just, she threw gum into my hair! _

_Who does that?!_

_Even Spencer was gaping at me in shock._

_You see, Squishy Cat was Kyla's pet ferret. She'd fallen in love with the smelly rodents during her stint in foster care, and so long as she cleaned his cage every day and took care of him, Christine allowed her to keep him._

_She loved Squishy Cat. _

_They were two peas in a pod. _

_He was her family, and I'd just threatened to murder him._

_"Kyla...," Christine prodded. "What's wrong?"_

_I turned again, warning flashing in my eyes._

_And she knew that I meant it. If I could murder Squishy... well, what were her chances?_

_Besides, she and I had a pact born of mutual respect that only the two of us could ever possibly understand. _

_We were family. We didn't rat each other out. _

_It was kind of like the mafia._

_Christine knew that neither of us were going to give the other up, so she did the only thing that she could when faced with a bond that fierce._

_"You're home tonight after school, both of you. No television, computers, phones, friends... nothing."_

_Kyla sniffled and I groaned. _

_And I saw the warning flash in Christine's eyes before she focused back on the road. _

_Touche, Christine..._

_Could this day get any worse?_

_I slumped in my seat. I felt like shit for what I'd just done, I was pissed at my sister for getting me grounded, my stomach was all tied in knots, and I thought that maybe I was going to hurl._

_But Spencer, finally getting over her shock, decided to cut me some slack. She took my hand and squeezed it, and she didn't let go until we finally got to the school._

_This was it._

_We got out of the car - well Spencer pulled me unwillingly from the car - and Christine bid us a good day, but all I could do was nod mutely._

_Wickliffe high, home of the blue devils, was an older, rectangular, brick monstrosity of muted colors. It had no character whatsoever. It just sort of sat there, all depressing and massive, kind of like Suzanne Summers. _

_And now that I'd finally arrived, after all of that hard work and anticipation, I didn't even want to be here._

_Nothing was going as planned, this day couldn't have started any worse, and the only tether I had - the hand still holding my own - would be disappearing soon._

_Like, very soon._

_Like now._

_Wait, where was she going?_

_I sort of snapped out of it in time to see her walking away from me. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten inside, or how I was standing in a doorway dodging mass amounts of noisy bodies, but I was. _

_"Spence, wait!"_

_I couldn't see her anymore._

_Panicked squeezed my throat._

_And then I heard her. _

_"Ash, it's okay! Just stay put after class, and I'll find you!"_

_My eyes finally landed on her some fifteen feet away. She was walking backwards, but then, she was gone, leaving me terrified and alone._

_I turned to the door and took a deep breath. I was a survivor, right? _

_Couldn't I just run away?_

_Yes, I could. One of these labyrinthine corridors was bound to lead to the outside._

_But Spencer..._

_If I ran, she'd come looking for me and then there was also Christine to think about. I physically shuddered at the thought of being kept away from Spencer for more than a day. I mean, that was terrible enough. _

_A shrill sound filled the air and my heart went into my toes. On instinct, I ducked inside the door, worried that maybe I'd set off some sort of alarm or something. _

_I was just glad that I hadn't dropped to the floor to take cover or screamed bloody murder, not that it would have mattered because I was inside of a room full of people, and all of them were staring at me anyway. _

_Why were they staring at me?_

_I closed my eyes and gulped. I didn't forget clothes this morning, did I?_

_I couldn't bring myself to check..._

_"You must be Ashley," the woman who somehow magically appeared in front of me said._

_She put her arm over my shoulders to bring me with her to the front of the room._

_Why did she have me up there at the front facing the rest of them?_

_Was this some sort of first day hazing?_

_Would there be blindfolds, sanguinism, and chanting too?_

_"Everyone, this is Ashley. She's new, so let's make her feel welcome."_

_Not a sound._

_Their expressions were as stupid as my own must have been._

_At least I was among my own kind._

_To my everlasting relief, the teacher escorted me to an empty chair and allowed me to sink into it, extremely low, like I was doing an impression of a puddle._

_The teacher called for us to turn to a page in a book, and I panicked again._

_No one said that I'd needed like, books, and... stuff!_

_That's when I noticed that I was clutching something hard to my chest. In fact, my knuckles were white._

_I placed the book and notebook on the desk in front of me stupidly, wondering how I'd gotten these things._

_Spencer, it must have been Spencer._

_There was even a pen resting securely in the binder rings of the notebook._

_She was the truest friend ever. _

_The teacher was droning and her marker was squeaking against the whiteboard, and I found that I was in the calm of the storm. _

_The worst was over, right?_

_Except I had to do this four more times today..._

_I pushed that thought aside, choosing instead to just take this moment to calm myself. And it was just starting to work when the shrill noise returned and nearly dumped me from my seat._

_People started filing past me like cattle and I hurried to get my things together. _

_It was Spencer time._

_I was so very ready._

_I stepped outside of the door and waited, albeit awkwardly, as instructed._

_"Ashley, right?"_

_I turned at the sound of my name to see a really tall boy. The fact that he was talking to me was odd enough, but then I recognized him. _

_I just couldn't place from where..._

_"You don't remember me, do you?"_

_Nope, not a clue..._

_I was fumbling and he knew it. It made him smile and hold out his hand._

_"Aiden, I met you over the summer when I stayed with Glen."_

_That clicked. "Oh, right. Yeah, sorry..."_

_I took his hand for a moment. _

_"No worries," he said, and I felt relieved._

_Now that I remembered him, I recalled that he was Glen's buddy. I only saw him briefly because Spencer was staying with me that night and we were in a hurry, but he was really nice for those three whole minutes._

_He seemed to remember me just fine though._

_I began to feel a little better, especially since Spencer was finally here._

_"Hey, Spencer," Aiden greeted her casually._

_She smiled back at him and it was everything that I could do not to tackle her and lick her face._

_She turned her attention to me. "How'd it go?"_

_"Fine," I said automatically._

_I could have been true. I mean, I wasn't bleeding or anything._

_She smiled brightly and linked her arm through mine to pull me... somewhere._

_Aiden fell in beside us. _

_"Who do you guys have for study hall?"_

_"Simpson," Spencer replied. _

_"You?"_

_"Perkins," he smiled brightly._

_"Oooh," Spencer winced. "She's kind of mean."_

_He shrugged. "She's hot."_

_Before I knew it, we were standing in front of a long line of lockers and Spencer had released me to open one of them. She listened to Aiden go on about his schedule while dutifully pulling the book from my hands and replacing it with another._

_"Sup, guys," Glen came bounding up to us._

_He attempted to tussel my hair like the ass that he was but I swatted his hand away. _

_"Ashley, look at you, all matriculating and stuff!"_

_His hand came swinging down for a high-five and I was only barely able to get one of my own in the way to narrowly deflect it from my face._

_"Alright..," he continued in a creepy, cocky voice and Spencer rolled her eyes at me in sympathy._

_It was about this time that Clay showed up with another girl. _

_"Hey, guys," he said._

_"Hey," everyone chorused. _

_"I'm Chelsea," the girl stepped forward and shook my hand._

_"Ashley," I replied, and when she smiled, it seemed genuine._

_We started moving again, all at once and all together, without anyone saying a word. It was like everyone just knew - like collective telepathy._

_Even I had done it. _

_It was a little creepy._

_"So, you guys are never going to believe what happened to me just now...," Glen started._

_"Another girl told you to go away," Aiden guessed._

_I chuckled. _

_Aiden was alright..._

_Glen gave Aiden a bored expression. "You wish you had my game."_

_Aiden scoffed. "And then you woke up."_

_Glen grinned rakishly. "Oh, I've got game, alright. That's what I was about to tell you: I have a date with Madison Duarte this weekend."_

_"You're lying," Aiden accused._

_"Nope, check it."_

_He dangled a torn piece of paper with a phone number in Aiden's face. _

_"Whatever, man, I still don't believe you."_

_Glen shrugged smugly. "Hate the game, not the playa."_

_"Glen, word is that Maddison's a man-eater," Clay pitched in._

_"Good," Glen grinned. "Cover me in syrup and give her a fork."_

_This banter continued and I found myself at a loss. I mean, I understood their innuendo just fine. I was naïve, not stupid. I had put things together a while ago. But, by my estimation, sex was just gross. _

_I had never considered dating anyone, let alone having sex. But apparently, to those who had been in public school for their whole lives, it was as common as air and as important as breathing._

_Spencer had never talked about anyone or anything even remotely like that with me, and she was my whole world up until this point. _

_I looked over at her, trying to gauge her reactions to the conversation at hand. She wasn't fazed, so this was obviously nothing new to her. _

_I found myself wondering why she'd never talked to me about it. _

_I found myself sort of wanting to talk to her about it._

_The shrill noise returned, only this time I didn't embarrass myself, and everyone began to break off until it was just me and Spencer._

_She stopped at a door and turned to me. _

_"You're doing great," she reassured me._

_I blew out a breath and smiled because she was._

_"Thank you, Spence..."_

_She knew that I didn't just mean the compliment._

_"Anytime... Now, same deal as before?"_

_I nodded eagerly. "Sounds good to me."_

_"Cool," she said, spinning me by my shoulders and shoving me in the door. _

_"Spencer," I scolded when I regained my footing, but I was too late. She was already swallowed up by the hallway traffic._

_"Later, Ash," she called out in a sing-song voice._

_She would so pay for that. _

_This class was no different. Some of the faces were more familiar now and I managed to actually pay attention to the teacher and take notes before the banshee of a bell called out in anguish._

_By lunch time, I was feeling pretty good, and to my surprise, I sort of liked having other people around. I mean, I got to be with Spencer no differently than before, but the others added a lot to the conversations and mainly gave us something to laugh at._

_And I liked everyone well enough. _

_Aiden was really nice and he liked to tear into Glen with a vengeance. What wasn't to like there? _

_There was only one thing that I didn't really like about him, though I wasn't even sure why: every time that he spoke to Spencer, I just felt... protective. _

_It was the way that he smiled at her and looked at her. He wasn't mean at all, just... maybe too nice. But then he wasn't any different with me, so I wrote it off to jealousy over sharing my best friend. _

_I was adjusting, but I wasn't used to group dynamics yet._

_Now Chelsea on the other hand, was fast becoming one of my favorite people. And in all honesty it's because she was so much like Spencer. She didn't join in with the guys when they trashed-talked someone. And I got the feeling that if you needed something she'd be there in an instant with no questions or incriminations. _

_She was also an artist, which kind of sky-rocketed my approval of her._

_All in all, I felt that things were going well, much better than the way that they had started. There was only one person that I had yet to meet, and that was about to be remedied._

_Chelsea had, at mine and Spencer's insistent pleading, finally handed over her sketch pad for our perusal when a voice interrupted Glen and Aiden's endless basketball litany._

_"Hey there, handsome."_

_We all looked up and I noticed Spencer roll her eyes. _

_"Hey, Madison," Glen said excitedly._

_This girl exuded confidence, which was all well and fine, but everything about her also screamed condescending, predatory, and whore. _

_She was wearing a cheerleading outfit that left little to the imagination. Which, I decided, was just fine by me as well - maybe a little too fine - but then she opened her mouth again._

_She gave Glen a Cheshire grin. "Why don't you come sit at my table today?"_

_She stuck out her chest for him a little. Line of site had its merits._

_This in and of itself wasn't a terrible thing to say or do. I mean, it was an invite, right? No harm there. But it was the way she said it that made my cackles rise. As she said the seemingly innocuous words, her eyes swept over each of us with a look of undisguised disgust._

_I glanced at Spencer to see that she'd crossed her arms over her chest, so I mirrored her pose._

_Then, Madison spoke yet again._

_"That is, if you still want to get together this weekend."_

_Okay, so now this was what, a power play? She wouldn't date Glen if he hung out with us... lesser people?_

_Glen seemed to deliberate for a moment, looking to us like a deer caught in the headlights._

_I smiled smugly at this girl. We were his friends and family. She'd just overplayed her hand._

_"Later guys."_

_Glen removed himself from the table so fast that he nearly did a face-plant. And he didn't look back once except to Aiden with a little 'I told you so' expression on his face._

_I watched in shock as he then sped away happily with that bitch hanging from his side like a cancerous growth._

_I looked to everyone else to see if I was the only one upset by this. I mean, I already knew that Glen was an ass, but this was just... too far._

_"I don't know what he sees in her," Spencer said, as always coming through for me._

_Chelsea and Clay wore their agreement with Spencer's words on their faces, but Aiden, his head was on a swivel watching Glen and Madison stride away._

_We all stared at the back of his head until he finally faced forward and whistled lowly._

_It took almost a full minute for him to notice that we were all looking at him._

_"What," he asked defensively. _

_Clay laughed and Spencer shook her head. _

_"She's hot...," Aiden shrugged with a roguish smile._

_"She's a bitch," I blurted and they all looked at me._

_What, it was true!_

_"You don't even know her," Aiden defended._

_"I don't want to know her," I explained._

_"Uh oh, is someone upset to see Glen with the hottie head cheerleader," he teased._

_Wow, I knew that he was just teasing me, but we really didn't know each other well enough to tease like that._

_I didn't know what to say and I felt... gross. A few awkward moments passed, no one saying anything, and I glanced over at Spencer._

_She seemed... pensive, but it only lasted a moment before the bell rang._

_We each dumped our trash, and I immediately linked my arm through Spencer's expectantly._

_She helped me exchange my book again, and I was even more delighted when I learned that this was study hall and she wouldn't be leaving me._

_She was quiet the whole way there, but I didn't think too much of it until, while in the middle of my studies, she passed me a note._

_I smiled. This was another first. I almost felt like a bonafide teenager._

_I glanced at the teacher at the front of the room to see that he was fighting off sleep and opened it quietly._

_"Can you even believe Aiden," it asked in her large, round script._

_I picked up my pen and wrote a reply._

_"Yeah, I didn't know what to say. I mean, I don't even know him."_

_I passed it back to her and waited patiently for her to read and return a reply, watching the teacher the whole time._

_"Yeah, he's an idiot sometimes. I mean, you don't like Glen... like that... do you?"_

_Wow, what was going on in her head?_

_"Ew, gross! No way!"_

_She chuckled a little loudly when she read that one and the teacher's head bobbed sharply, waking him. I pretended to be enthralled in my reading as he scanned the crowd with shrewd, beady eyes. _

_It didn't take long for him to relax again and I smiled over at Spencer. _

_She had brightened considerably and all was right with the world._

_This school thing wasn't so bad so long as I had her._

_And I did._

_How did I know? Well, she was smiling back at me._


	4. Chapter 4: The Golden Years, Part 2

**See part 1 for disclaimers. Sidenote: Factory of Terror in Canton, OH is a real place, but I've never been there. Nothing in this chapter is true or from personal experience. I only used it because of its location and reputation. If the owners object to me using their name, I can be reached via vaginawig at yahoo dot com. I'll happily change it.**

**Guest #1 - Thank you so much for responding and being open to communication. It's been very helpful thus far. Let me know what you think of the flow and dialogue in this chapter. If you see something too wordy, please point out a specific line so I can better understand what parts cause you to stumble. And, of course, anything else you see that needs spotlighted, just shout. Thank you again!**

**IF THIS IS TO BE CONTINUED, I need lots of feedback. A few of your have responded, and it's helped tremendously. I need to hear from more people to get the most growth. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd appreciate those few moments of your time just to point something out that needs help and how or something that you liked and why. I can't continue to grow as a writer if I don't hear from impartial readers, and that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Golden Years, Part 2**

"That's low, Spence."

"You're the one that threatened a poor innocent animal and traumatized your sister over a piece of gum," she defended.

"And you were the one worried that I liked Glen."

Her eyes darken.

Oh, this game is so on...

And it's my turn.

I purposefully wait until she is at the apex of another sip of hot chocolate before I lay my card on the table.

"Factory of Terror."

She totally just snorted cocoa out of her nose.

And I totally just grinned.

* * *

_Two years had progressed in a blur. We'd settled into a comfortable routine. But a lot changes in a year, let alone two, especially when you're fifteen. _

_First and foremost, Spencer and I had changed physically. I hadn't been sure if it was chance, some cosmic alignment of the planets, or maybe even a cosmic joke, but puberty had descended on both of us with a vengeance._

_And at the very same time..._

_God, it was a nightmare._

_In all honesty, I had been thankful not to have to go through it alone. I'd also lamented the timing because, well, there were a billion obvious reasons from embarrassment to cramps, but the worst part had been that we were both unreasonably bitchy with one another._

_However, we'd quickly learned that a carton of Ben and Jerry's chocolate brownie, a destroyed box of kleenex, fuzzy wuzzy pajamas, a shared green hoodie, scalp tickles, and an endless supply of Kevin Smith movies would pull us through most anything together and relatively intact._

_That miserable seven day stint had been just the first domino to fall though. As it turned out, bleeding for seven days and surviving would give you things like breasts._

_Now, I'm not suggesting that you A cuppers out there hole yourselves up somewhere and start making shallow cuts. It doesn't quite work like that. Besides, all you really need is a good handful._

_And all of you, sizes A to double Z, can relate with the fact that blossoming breasts hurt no matter the size. I had kind of felt like Gizmo when he got wet: all rolling around in pain, parts of my body bubbling until one day, pop - the minions had finally arrived._

_Spencer's were bigger than mine, but I had been pretty proud of how I filled out my clothes, and I had flaunted it a little - a lot - more than she did._

_I've mentioned that I was an attention whore, right?_

_Okay, just checking._

_We'd also acquired curves in our hips and thighs, and a soft little bump had begun to ever-so-slightly protrude on our lower bellies. At first, I'd been pretty upset about the stomach bump, but then I'd realized that it would look pretty ridiculous to have a super flat stomach with all of the other select parts filling out. _

_My body become rounder, softer, and more feminine._

_I not only grew to be okay with it, but to like it, especially on Spencer._

_That was something else that had changed, at least for me: I wasn't just seeing the changes in Spencer's body, but I had begun to like, really notice them. I found that I enjoyed just looking at her and hugging her and smelling her. _

_That wasn't all that new really, but it hadn't affected me the same as before. _

_Then, I'd just been desperate for contact. It had filled the voids inside and helped me to feel wanted. But now, it was as if she'd filled the inside up so completely that it was spilling over to my outsides and leaving them achingly wanting. _

_I had begun to notice how fabric clung to her in certain places, and found myself looking when a move would expose some innocuous expanse of smooth skin. I'd also found that she made me more nervous than she'd used to, but in an addictive sort of way, like a cliché moth to an open flame._

_But for all that had been changing, some things stayed exactly the same._

_Most people are masochistic adrenaline junkies and enjoy a good scare. Now, I'd never known Spencer to turn down candy, but, as you know, she didn't like scary things at all. So when Halloween rolled around, she was happy to sit at home watching movies with a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups. _

_And that just wasn't going to change._

_Of course, I was the exact opposite. I not only wanted to dress up, I wanted to look utterly disgusting and scare small children. The more gore, the better: that was my motto. _

_And that was never going to change either._

_So what were two best friends to do when they were at such an important impasse?_

_Compromise, of course._

_We'd figured this problem out rather quickly when we were younger, and so we'd agreed to alternate years. One Halloween would be my choice and the next would be hers. Of course, my Halloweens had been spent reveling in devilish delight and mayhem - as it should be - and Spencer's had been spent vegging out on the couch watching the cutesiest, sappiest movies in the human collective._

_Either way, it had been torture for one of us. _

_Well this was my year, and we wouldn't be dressing up. Oh no, not us. That was for pussies and children. This year, Mr. C would be driving us down to Canton to the Factory of Terror. It was the largest haunted house in the world, and it was only about an hour away. _

_I had been preparing for this for years. All of those nights spent staying up late in front of my television watching cannibals, sociopaths, and mutated beasts rip through their victims had given me all of the education that I would need._

_I would finally test my mettle, and I was ready._

_Bring on the psychos..._

_When I'd first informed Spencer, she'd flat out refused, but I now had the ammunition of friends, and they were on my side. _

_She was outnumbered. Everyone she knew was going: Clay and Chelsea, Glen and Madison - gag, Aiden, and, of course, me. And if she didn't come, not only would she be labeled a monumental wuss for the rest of her life, but she'd break our agreement and have to spend the night with her mom or Christine and a brooding Kyla._

_That just wouldn't do._

_She was trapped, and she knew it._

_So, she came along. She had no other choice._

_I was already pumped and anxious and ready to face my destiny before the eight of us crammed into Christine's suburban - she was kind enough to loan it so that we could all ride together. But when we pulled up at the gate and I saw that huge Factory of Terror archway, I thought that I might pass out._

_Spencer was considering it as well. She was hyperventilating and hadn't released my hand for the last half hour. I got the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't for the rest of the night._

_This was perfectly fine by me. _

_Better than fine..._

_Like, almost better than the horror house fine..._

_The six of us left Mr. C in the van with a thermos of amazing chocolately goodness, and we placed ourselves in the long line to wait with anticipation._

_This murderous playland was supposed to take more than an hour to get through..._

_I wanted to laugh maniacally, and if it wouldn't have gotten me arrested, I'd have been wielding a machete. But, while I did enjoy torturing Spencer, I wasn't a complete asshole. Instead, I just looped her arm through mine and held it tight. _

_She looked over at me, nervousness pouring out of her as a cold sweat, and I felt something pang in my chest. _

_Maybe torturing her wasn't as fun anymore..._

_Nah..._

_But, I still smiled reassuringly at those frightened eyes and made her a solemn promise: "I won't leave your side, not once."_

_Oh the implications that I wasn't even aware of..._

_She nodded, bouncing a little in the chilly November air, but relaxing some all the same._

_"This is going to be a joke," Glen postured, puffing out his chest for Madison's benefit, I was sure._

_Aiden scoffed. "For me maybe, but you..."_

_Aiden looked Glen up and down. "I bet you twenty bucks that you'll be screaming like a girl before the night's out."_

_"Hey," Spencer was indignant._

_"Yeah," I agreed._

_There was nothing wrong with being a girl..._

_They ignored us._

_Glen scoffed and held out his hand to seal the deal. "You're on."_

_Madison began to flirt and kiss Glen shamelessly, swiftly bringing his attention back to her, while the rest of us tried to keep our dinner down and eyes elsewhere._

_That was okay though, because I could look at Spencer for hours._

_She was wearing dark, tightly fitted jeans with brown, mid-calf boots made of a soft sued and a fur liner. The baby blue of her thin sweater offset the color of her eyes stunningly, while a thick, fur-lined vest kept her warm. Her long hair was styled in loose waves that rolled over her slender shoulders, and everything about her made me feel like I was resting beside a gentle fire._

_My look was a little more severe: rocker but still feminine. I opted for black, skinny jeans, leather boots, an off the shoulder blouse, and a short-cut leather jacket. _

_Spencer found me looking at her, and I noticed an attractive blush creep up to her cheeks. I looked away and smiled, though I wasn't even sure why._

_It didn't take too long to get to the front of the line. They were sending in groups of around ten with a five minute pause between each. _

_I laughed when I saw the sign by the door that read, "We're out of adult diapers. Sorry for the inconvenience."_

_This made Spencer more nervous if possible, but the rest of us thought that it was hilarious. I somehow managed to force her to pose next to it for an infamous picture that would forever be one of my favorites._

_"Too bad for you," Aiden said to Glen pointing at the sign. _

_Glen shrugged. "They would have been too tight in the junk away. I need quite a bit of room..."_

_"Ugh, Glen...," Spencer lamented with a shove at his back._

_"Besides, nothing's bigger than your ego," Clay added._

_Everyone laughed and Glen made a show of grabbing his zipper._

_"I can prove it..."_

_"NO," everyone chorused, even some strangers in the back._

_"Okay, next group," the attendant called out._

_There was a collective sigh of relief at the interruption._

_And oh man, I was going to explode._

_I pulled Spencer to the very front with me and bounced with anticipation. _

_This was it. _

_My manifest destiny..._

_The teen counted us off and then called out for three more from the back of the line, but everyone was in groups of five or more._

_"Cool, just us," I said, beaming a grin at Spencer._

_She tried to smile for my benefit, but it came out as a grimace._

_I chuckled but she must not have been amused because I felt something dig into my rib._

_The attendant then took the tickets that Mr. C had purchased for us at the gate, and finally moved out of the way so that we could go in._

_We found ourselves in a small, dark room. Spencer's grip tightened so much that her nails were digging into my arm, and I rubbed my free hand over hers to loosen her up a bit._

_It wasn't enough to return circulation, so I leaned in close to whisper, "Remember, I'm with you."_

_I felt her nod in the dark space, my arm tingled with relief, and that's when an ungodly tall and wispy form appeared from nowhere in a shredded, black cloak. His face was totally obscured by his deep hood and he carried a large, sharp-looking scythe. _

_Wow, the make-up was great. In the dark light, his hand looked like it was entirely bone. _

_His voice was deep, gravelly, and otherworldly. "Ah, new souls fresh from the mortal coil."_

_He paused to bow deeply. "Welcome to your fate. My name is Azreal, but you may know me as death, and I am here to welcome you. It may take some time, but I hope that you'll find your new home... comfortable."_

_He then laughed darkly and stepped aside, flourishing his hand back toward the door that seemed to appear out of nowhere, just like him. _

_"After you," he said and I felt a thrill run down my spine._

_"I can't do this," Spencer whispered._

_And to be honest, I was beginning to wonder if I even could._

_But there was no time for that now. We were here and there was no turning back. Besides, she was stronger than her fears._

_I pried my arm from her grip and draped it over her shoulders, tucking her snugly into my side. I felt her arm tighten around my waist. _

_"You can do this," I disagreed._

_She blew out a breath. _

_"Ready," I asked._

_"As I'm gonna be..."_

_I smiled, letting my nose linger a little near her temple before pushing open the large door. It creaked ominously and Azreal laughed maniacally behind us. That was all the incentive that I needed to step through and take Spencer with me._

_This area was deathly quiet but for random screams in the distance, no doubt other souls that Azreal had claimed._

_We were in a long, narrow hallway, and as we walked, random scenes began to pop up in little rooms on each side. One man was being eaten alive, another sawed in half, some were just twisted tableaus of grisly deaths, and others were just crazies rattling in their cages._

_To be honest, it was a little bit of a letdown. Don't get me wrong, the artistry and the acting was awesome. Some of it looked truly real, and while that was disturbing, the fact that I knew in my rational mind that it wasn't, sort of ruined it._

_I wanted a real thrill that wouldn't actually get me killed, and it felt sort of safe in our little hallway where the nasty stuff was securely locked away from us. _

_We got through the area rather easily, and Spencer had relaxed quite a bit. _

_That was unexpected. _

_I looked over to find that her eyes were shut tightly and laughed. _

_She pinched my side in response._

_Hey, whatever helps her sleep at night..._

_Personally, I had to resign myself to just enjoy it for what it was: macabre shenanigans, and ultimately, Spencer cuddling. _

_I was just too hardcore to be fazed._

_As we approached the end of the macabre scenes, I whispered to Spencer, "You can open your eyes now."_

_She peeked one eye open and exhaled sharply._

_"This is lame," Glen said in a bored tone._

_"Yeah, I thought this place was supposed to be the best in the whole World, Ashley," Madison agreed in a snotty tone._

_I glanced back at her. "I said biggest, not best. That would be Universal Orlando's Fright Night."_

_Spencer grinned sweetly at her. "But feel free to leave at any time."_

_I squeezed her a bit in reflex. She made me so proud sometimes._

_Madison scowled, as if affronted that Spencer had even dared to address her. "I don't remember asking you."_

_I gestured to the miniskirt that was barely covering her nether regions. "You seem to forget a lot of things, like underwear."_

_Everyone snickered - well, all but Glen._

_"Really," he asked excitedly, bending to get a good look._

_Madison smacked him hard in the chest before grabbing his hand and pulling him past us. _

_"Let's move ahead of the riff-raff," she said._

_"Good riddance," I murmured._

_With a round of snickers, the remainder of our group continued forward, and that's when things started to go downhill._

_A bend in the hallway led us into another hallway that was washed in a blood-red light, and the rooms along the walls were replaced with large industrial pipes. It sort of reminded me of Freddy's boiler room. It was even uncomfortably warm, and I'd swear that I could hear scraping sounds._

_We progressed forward without care, the last area having lulled us into a comfortable sense of false security. Fog slowly started to fill the space and small spatters of blood began to appear in random patterns. The corridor seemed to go on forever, and to be honest, absolutely nothing was happening._

_The scraping seemed to get louder, shriller even - it actually kind of hurt my ears - and where before it was in front of us, I'd swear that it was now behind us._

_"Ash, what is that," Spencer whimpered, her hand fisting the shirt at my waist in a white knuckle grip._

_Just as I was about to tell her that I wasn't sure, Aiden decided to be a douche._

_"BOO," he shouted while jabbing Spencer in her side._

_Her resulting jump made me jump - hell, it even made Clay and Chelsea, some four feet away, jump - and we all whirled on him angrily._

_"You're so easy, Spence," he laughed._

_I was about to kick his ass, but then I saw it: there, behind us, was none other than Freddy himself, his melted face screwed up in a twisted smile and his razor-sharp claws wiggling in a mocking wave._

_I took a deep breath. I was better than this. That wasn't Freddy and this actor couldn't hurt us._

_It was still creepy though. I mean, how long had he been following us?_

_Everyone else turned, and Freddy move forward slowly, grating his claws against the pipes in a sound that rivaled nails on a chalkboard._

_He cocked his head and looked right at Spencer. "Hey, Spence, let's trip out!"_

_I would have laughed. I mean, that scene in the movie always cracked me up, but how did he know her name?_

_And then, he lunged forward, an insane cackle escaping his mouth as he came barreling towards us._

_Clay grabbed Chelsea's hand, a sharply murmured, "Oh, hell no," reaching my ears as they shoved past us. _

_Aiden, now closest to Freddy, yelled, tripped, and fell flat on his face. Freddy wasn't fazed. He jumped right over Aiden and came straight for me and Spencer._

_I fumbled to get ahold of her so that she wouldn't get left behind, but my hands found nothing but air._

_She was already long gone._

_I looked to Aiden's frightened eyes, debating with myself for about a split second._

_"Sorry, Aiden," I shouted as I turned and ran like a bitch. _

_"ASHLEY," he called after me, but I was undeterred._

_Freddy was giving chase, his laugh and shrieking claws having forced the rational mind right out of me._

_The corridor just kept going and going and going, the fog getting chokingly thicker, and I kept running, occasionally checking over my shoulder with supreme paranoia._

_He was hot on my heels, laughing and insane, and it sort of pissed me off._

_I thought that I might actually die because I couldn't catch my breath, or see very well, and he was just so damn fast. _

_I checked him again, shouting at him angrily, "Get a life, fucker!"_

_I wasn't paying attention to where I was going when I burst through several small strips of plastic and found myself screaming and flailing my hands to get them off of me. _

_When I finally realized what they were, I felt embarrassed and checked my surroundings to make sure that no one had seen me._

_I was alone, thank God, but I was in a poorly lit maze of blood spattered sheets. _

_Wonderful..._

_I checked behind me again to be sure that Freddy was gone, and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath while I attempted to locate that AWOL rational mind hiding in my skull. _

_This wasn't exactly going as planned. I mean, I'd already lost Spencer._

_"Spence...," I breathed out a little worriedly._

_There was no one here, and no sound but my heavy breathing and racing heart._

_"Spencer...," I tried a little louder, nervously pushing forward._

_There was nothing. _

_Where had they all gone?_

_I looked back one last time, hoping to see Aiden, but it was too late, Freddy had his soul._

_I turned, swallowed, and refused to be frightened any further. _

_Horror was my domain. _

_With head held high, I pushed forward through the maze, alert and wary, but confident._

_"Spencer," I tried again._

_My head snapped to the right. I could have sworn that I saw..._

_Nothing._

_That was probably the worst part, the waiting..._

_I started forward again, but only got about five paces._

_"Spencer," a high pitched voice called mockingly._

_I stopped, a drop of cold sweat tickling at my temple. _

_Whatever it was, it was close..._

_"Spencer," it said again, this time followed by a laugh that reminded me of Krusty the Klown._

_I closed my eyes. _

_Fuck..._

_I hated clowns._

_It laughed again and my eyes snapped open, turning again to the sheet at my right. _

_The demented clown came bursting through the sheet and I yelped, stumbling back into yet another sheet which caused more flailing and embarrassment. _

_But this time, someone had seen._

_Glen and Madison laughed and high-fived each other._

_At least it was truly a demented clown..._

_Two of them in fact._

_"You should have seen your face, Ash!"_

_The two of them chortled but my indignation scattered on the wind, because silhouetted on the sheet behind them was the unmistakable form of a clown._

_Glen laughed harder, pointing at my face. "Yeah, just like that..."_

_I watched the clown silhouette lift a giant knife in the air over his head._

_At first, I was panicked, and I was about to say something, but then that rational mind finally kicked in. _

_And then turned sadistic. _

_They were still laughing, so instead, I pulled out my cell phone and quickly set it to record._

_They regained their calm when they noticed this and stared at me confusedly._

_"Ash, what are you-"_

_That's about the time that the knife tore through the sheet and a killer clown came spilling out in a rage of insane giggles._

_I enjoyed the sound of Glen's girlish scream, forever captured on my phone, and watched in amusement as they took off again, the clown hot on their heels._

_It was about this time that Aiden came rushing up from behind. I was on the defensive and nearly clocked him one before recognizing him. _

_His eyes were slightly crazed as he said, "I-I heard screams."_

_I rolled my eyes, carefully stowed my phone, and grabbed his arm. "Come on. We need to find Spencer."_

_He gulped and nodded, but stayed with me as I continued onward. We got through most of the maze unscathed, and I could only assume that it was because the clown had been preoccupied._

_I hoped that Glen pissed himself._

_I supposed that it was true that when the zombie apocalypse happens, you only need to be faster than your fastest friend._

_Eventually the sheets dissipated and the walls became solid again, but the lighting began to grow darker and darker until it was completely pitch. I couldn't even see an inch in front of my face._

_I kept moving though, using my hands to guide me. The further that I went, the more that I felt as if the walls were closing in on me. The space narrowed and narrowed until I was almost completely bent over and the walls were only an arms span apart. _

_This went on for a while and I thought that maybe I was going the wrong way, when suddenly the space opened up. I could stand, but I still couldn't see a thing. _

_Aiden was still behind me, I could tell by the death grip he had on the back of my jacket._

_I wasn't sure what to do, or what was lurking in this room, but I could hear breathing and whimpering, and it wasn't just me and Aiden. _

_I was too afraid to speak, lest it belong to something trying to kill me. So, carefully and quietly, I found the wall to my right and continued to use my fingers to guide us slowly. _

_My foot bumped into something solid but soft, and it screamed - or all of them screamed, I wasn't sure, because something had just nailed me hard right in the face._

_I staggered back onto Aiden and we went tumbling to the floor. My eyes were watering, my nose was stinging, and my mind was reeling._

_"FUCK," I shouted._

_"Ash...?"_

_Her voice was small and her timbre terrified, but I'd still know it anywhere. _

_Before I could respond, the sound of a chainsaw filled the air and a maniac burst through a door, strobing light spilling in around his massive form._

_I rolled to sit up and locked eyes with Spencer. She, Clay, and Chelsea were huddled and cowering on the floor next to me._

_I scrambled to my feet as the madman rushed us, and hauled Spencer up. Clay grabbed Chelsea, who grabbed Aiden, who accidently yanked on my hair, and like a train of linked sausages, we hightailed it through the door just narrowly avoiding the chainsaw that swiped at us._

_From there, if you can believe it, things only got worse._

_The area we'd entered was filled with cages and chains, and ungodly demons tried to grab us from within as we hurried forward. _

_The scene kept morphing into equally horrendous scenarios: asylum patients ambled around us, demented hillbillies laughed and swung axes at our heads, corpses were nailed to the walls and hanging from the ceiling, and pits of body parts and sharpened spikes were narrowly avoided. _

_Pinhead hung a girl on his gallows, and endless scenes of pain and torture filled every corner, even the very air, with insanity._

_And all the while, chainsaw man kept coming. _

_It seemed like it would never end._

_I could barely breathe and I was beginning to wonder what I'd been thinking, but there was no way that we could slow down._

_We were all screaming so much that I was certain we would be hoarse later._

_Finally we came to a dead end where we found Glen and Madison huddled together in trauma. There was no way out but for a small hole in the wall, and there no way any one of us was going to look in there, especially not me. _

_No way, no how._

_We turned to see the madmen pressing forward and forcing our backs to the wall. Closer and closer they came, and just as they were about to descend on us, a hidden door burst open to our left revealing the outside, the end, freedom, life..._

_Of course, that's when a giant fucking dragon-snake thing came screaming out of the hole behind us and something inside of me just snapped._

_I'd had it and I was pissed._

_I swung at the thing, cursing and hitting it in its stupid, plastic mouth, and it took the combined efforts of both Aiden and Clay to drag me through the door._

_The cool air iced the sweat on my skin and I pulled away from them roughly. _

_Adrenaline was coursing through me with nowhere to go, but it was over._

_Holy hell, I was never doing that again._

_I didn't want anyone else to know how terrified I was though, so I readjusted my jacket, and tried to adopt an air of casual indifference._

_When I looked up, I realized that everyone was staring at me._

_"What...?"_

_They didn't move, they just gawped like fish on a shore. _

_Great, they were going to tease me for being frightened._

_My shoulders slumped._

_"Oh my God," Spencer said breathlessly._

_"I'm sorry, I was just... fed up," I said, trying to play it off._

_It didn't work._

_"It was just a stupid, plastic snake...," I tried again._

_I mean, sheesh. Come on, guys..._

_Still no change. Well, Madison was chuckling._

_"Glen screamed like a girl," I said on impulse, hoping to drop some of the negative attention._

_That wiped the smile from Madison's face, and Glen glared at me._

_I instantly felt better. That is, until Spencer started to cry._

_She covered her mouth with her hands as fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and I felt like a piece of shit. _

_"Did you guys have fun," Mr. C asked brightly, at least until he saw Spencer._

_He came rushing up to her and took her in his arms before turning to Glen with accusing eyes. _

_"What happened," he asked sharply._

_Glen got offended. "Why do you automatically assume that I had anything to do with it?"_

_After a few moments, Glen just sighed and nodded. "Fine, it's normally my fault, but I didn't do it this time. I swear."_

_Then he pointed at me._

_I glared at him._

_Touche, Glen..._

_Mr. C took one look at me, released Spencer, and suddenly I was the focus of his worry. _

_He took my arms and crouched in front of me. "God, Ashley, are you okay?"_

_I eyed him, completely confused. _

_"Yeah...," I said, the word somehow three syllables._

_What was wrong with everyone?_

_Madison rolled her eyes, walked up to me, and casually retrieved a compact from her purse. She smiled when she opened it and I finally understood what all of the fuss was about._

_My face was dripping with blood._

_I mean, I looked like one of the actors._

_And that's when I finally remembered that I'd been hit in the face, but I'd been so panicked that I'd totally forgotten._

_I looked over at Spencer who was still crying and it finally made sense. _

_She'd hit me. No, straight up decked me, on purpose, in the face..._

_Because she thought that I was a villain._

_I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't hurt her like that._

_"Spence, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to."_

_She swiped at her eyes but she wouldn't look at me._

_"Okay," Mr. C said, "We need to get to a hospital."_

_No one moved so he clapped his hands loudly. _

_"Move, people."_

_Everyone started to follow him and I approached Spencer. She still wouldn't look at me._

_"Spence, it doesn't even hurt," I tried to console._

_She sniffled and I smiled. It sent a sharp twinge through my face, but I didn't let on. I just put my arm around her shoulders._

_I felt her hand secure around my waist, and all pain was forgotten._

_We followed the group and I watched with amusement as Aiden turned down the twenty dollar bill that Glen was holding out to him. _

_"Keep it, man," he said. "In there, everyone's a frightened little girl."_

* * *

Spencer grabs a napkin and cleans the chocolate from her chin.

"Speaking of low blows," she says darkly.

I try to stop myself from saying words, really I do, but I just can't help myself...

"No, not low, exactly..." I pretend to think about it. "I mean, you nailed me square in the nose."

She's quiet and sad, and for a moment, it looks like she might cry.

Aw, fuck...

"Spence, come on. It was funny."

She sniffles and I feel like an even bigger shit. I was here to apologize to her, to explain to her, not hurt her more than I already had.

"I'm sorry, Spencer..."

She nods once, and just like that, she's perfectly fine.

"Sucker...," she says.

Oh, apparently low blows are on sale today.

And it's also her turn.

That's really not fair considering that she just got in a free potshot. Two for ones are definitely against the rules.

"Oh, come on, Ash, it was funny."

Her voice is mocking... _and_ she's using my own words against me.

This will not do, not at all.

Come on, Davies. Where's your wit? Say something clever. Throw her off balance.

"Not nearly as funny as when you thought I was dating Aiden though."

Man, she's on a roll, and I don't know if I can keep up...

* * *

_Remember when I said that Spencer never talked about sex or liking someone... like that?_

_Good._

_Now, remember when I also said that I'd found myself kind of wanting to talk to her about it?_

_Okay._

_So, that was three years prior, and I still hadn't worked up the nerve to follow through._

_But some of the stuff that had been happening had me reeling, and a little jealous - okay, maybe a lot jealous - and Spencer's unwillingness to wait forever for me to find said nerve, was about to force my hand._

_What had been happening exactly?_

_Well, things had been trucking along just fine, just like always. I mean, change was constant, but we kept coping. It wasn't always easy and far from perfect, but we had each other._

_In the blink of an eye, another year of holidays and photos and memories had been catalogued. Summer was in full swing and with age came more freedom._

_We could drive now and all of the other amazing run amuck rules had become applicable. We'd been filling our time with trips to the lake, movies, and sleepovers._

_But as summer had begun to dwindle down, something interrupted that flow: Spencer's time was at a premium._

_Now when I say that, I don't mean that she was visiting her grandmother or working a summer job. I mean that she just wasn't as available... to me._

_You see, she'd started spending a lot of time with Aiden... alone. And this was time that we'd normally spend together._

_And I wasn't the only one that had noticed, not by a longshot. Of course, being hormone driven sixteen-year-olds, everyone had sex on the brain. Glen and Madison were on-again, off-again, Clay and Chelsea had finally paired off, and the unconfirmed consensus was that Spencer and Aiden weren't just dating, but sleeping together._

_Now when I say unconfirmed, I mean that Spencer hadn't said anything about it to me; not a single word. In fact, she still hadn't talk about sex at all. _

_And Aiden was just as implacable. Even when we were all hanging out together, and Glen inevitably teased one of them about it, neither of them gave a damn thing away. They just shook their heads and shrugged._

_There were no overt touches or glances, or any of the other ridiculous stuff that is expected from a pair of star-crossed lovers. It was like nothing had changed, except that Spencer had taken half of the time that she was with me and focused it on Aiden. _

_And I had no idea why. All I had were rumors, and they were churning out of the mill like inbred puppies._

_But I just wouldn't believe it, not until I heard it directly from Spencer. She couldn't - wouldn't - do that without telling me..._

_Would she?_

_I mean, I was still her best friend and confidant, right?_

_And sex was a huge, up all night telling your best friend every detail kind of experience, right?_

_See, I thought that too, but then I had to consider that if the tables had been reversed, I wouldn't have breathed a word to her. In fact, I'd been keeping all of those same thoughts and feelings from Spencer for three years. _

_Remember all of those things that I had been noticing about Spencer? Yeah, me too. It was pretty much all that I could think about._

_Well, I had quickly realized that what I was feeling for her fell directly under the column of sexual. I'd seen enough of sex to realize that it was all about the olfactory senses. _

_I'd see someone kiss and then wonder what it would be like to kiss Spencer like that. _

_She'd move, I'd see skin, and I'd wonder what it would be like to touch it, maybe even taste it. _

_It just wasn't a gross idea anymore, at least not with Spencer._

_That realization had been just as thrilling as it had been scary. It had made me feel alive and on fire. But, those feelings had also left me feeling ashamed. I mean, was it wrong for me to look at her like that, to desire her? _

_There had been this part of me that had immediately said yes, that I was acting like a creepy mouth-breather and taking advantage of her trust. But my hormones had been screaming no._

_My head and body were at war, and no victor seemed to be in sight. _

_So, I'd opted to suppress my desire for her. I didn't want to abuse her trust, and since I couldn't be sure if I was, I just wouldn't do it._

_I mean, I loved Spencer... _

_And that... that one idle thought had caught fire inside of me. _

_See, most people believe that love and sex are two completely separate entities: love is all heart and sex is all body. I'd seen it often enough with those around me to know that it was true. _

_I mean, Glen and Madison hated each other half the time, yet they were boning like monkeys. But once the deed was done, that was it; there was nothing substantial left._

_There's a certain level of clear-headedness when you deny yourself, and that's when I'd realized that love is what makes sex substantial. And if you love that person, it's not wrong to want to show them that love physically._

_But while it may not be wrong, it most definitely could hurt. _

_Once I understood what I was feeling, I'd stopped tramping down on my desires and had began to focus on why I had them. As a result, I had begun to fall more and more in love with her. _

_It hurt to feel so much and be forced to bottle it up because I knew that those types of feelings had to be reciprocated. And if I put myself out there only to find out that Spencer didn't love me like that..._

_Well, for all that I didn't know, I was certain of one thing: I'd lose her completely. _

_I mean, wouldn't she have said something by now? She was always ahead of me in the emotions arena. _

_But she hadn't..._

_So that's what brought me to this point where I was pacing in my room and going out of my mind. I hadn't seen Spencer for nearly three days and she'd only called twice. We only had a week left of summer and normally, that's when we started to wind down and do our own thing._

_Just the two of us..._

_What happened to just the two of us?_

_I snatched my cell from the end of my bed, pressed 1, and held. Almost immediately the phone started ringing so I put it to my ear._

_I'd been doing this all day, but still, she wasn't picking up. _

_And it was getting late..._

_Her phone went to voicemail again and I hung it up a little violently before slumping onto the bed._

_I knew that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. I just wasn't ready to talk to her. I was beginning to think that I was never going to be ready._

_I blew out a breath and scrubbed at my eyes. Ready or not, I just didn't have a choice. I needed to do something before it was too late._

_Hell, if everyone's suspicions were correct, it already was. _

_Just then the phone rang and Spencer's face lit up the screen. I answered it so immediately that I caught the end of the conversation that she was having._

_"Stop it, Aiden! She'll hear..."_

_My heart fell into my stomach. _

_"Hello...," she asked. "Ash...?"_

_Fuck, what was I doing? I could hang up..._

_"Hellooo...?"_

_"Uh...," I cleared my throat. "Uh, hey, Spence."_

_My mind was reeling with this new information, but it wasn't enough. I didn't want it to mean what I believed it to mean._

_"Hey," she said brightly. "I just noticed that you called. I'm sorry, I've just been... busy..."_

_I closed my eyes against the acute pain that lanced through me. No, it still wasn't enough. She was going to have to crush me completely before I'd believe it._

_"So...," she drawled. "What's up?"_

_"Oh, I...," I swallowed hard and started picking at the imaginary lint on my comforter. "I just wanted to see if you could hang out, but you're busy, s-"_

_"Actually, Aiden's about to drop me off at home. I can come ov-"_

_"No!"_

_I cringed. That was really loud._

_And very conspicuous. _

_Well done, Davies..._

_"Ash...," she said more seriously. "Is everything okay?"_

_I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't let myself. It wasn't over yet, but I felt raw and exposed anyway. I might as well just get this over with._

_"Actually," I started. "I kind of need to talk..."_

_Fuck, it was out there now and I didn't have a good lie hiding in wait._

_"I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"_

_She sounded worried. _

_I just nodded and hung up, forgetting that she couldn't see me._

_Fuck..._

_I was on my feet and pacing again. I needed to think this through. I had issues with that. I always just rushed in. And it always got me trouble. _

_If I lost Spencer because of this..._

_Fuck._

_I felt trapped. If I told her, and she rejected me, then I'd have to run. There was no way that I could deal with that. But, if I didn't tell her, I'd be running from the truth anyway._

_It was like there was no other option but to run. I only got to choose the direction..._

_And both sucked..._

_I was so lost in my internal diatribe that I didn't hear the doorbell, and before I knew it, I was crying and wrapped up in strong, tender arms._

_I buried my face in her neck, thankful that she was a little bit taller than me now. I liked feeling small in her arms. It somehow felt safer, and I was going to lose that safety._

_I was pathetic, but that's love._

_She leaned away from me but I didn't have the heart to face her, so I kept my eyes trained on the carpet. I felt her fingers lace through the hair at either side of my face and push it back to the base of my neck. _

_I couldn't help but be comforted by it. It was my thing. Everyone has one - that pleasure hound spot that makes your leg kick wildly._

_I was fast becoming a puddle when she said, "Talk to me, Ash."_

_But my tongue was knotted in my throat. I really had no idea how lose her gracefully. _

_I finally looked up at her. Her skin was perfectly tanned and slightly freckled, and her hair several tints of sun-kissed gold. Compassion radiated from her oceanic eyes, and I just didn't know what to do._

_I couldn't put myself out there and lose her, not yet. But I did still need to know..._

_"Do you love Aiden?"_

_Surprise passed over her face before her brows furrowed. "What?"_

_She stroked my hair again. _

_"Is that why you've been avoiding me?"_

_Her hands fell away and she seemed to be debating something with herself. I could tell by the way that she crossed one arm in front of her stomach, propped the other's elbow on it, and then tugged on her bottom lip with her fingers. _

_Oh, God. There was that crushing feeling I'd been waiting for._

_I sat bonelessly on the end of the bed, my shoulders slumped. The bed shifted a little next to me to absorb her weight._

_"Ash, I haven't been avoiding you."_

_I looked over to see her fidgeting with the zipper of the green hoodie draped across her lap. She was nervous._

_Why?_

_"We don't hang out nearly as much because of Aiden..."_

_She sighed. "Ash, I can't really talk about it..."_

_"Why? We used to talk about everything."_

_"It's just complicated, Ash."_

_I felt bolder now. "Why, Spencer, because you're sleeping with him?"_

_I was finally met by angry eyes. "You think I'm sleeping with him."_

_It wasn't a question, but a statement, and I scoffed. "Come on, Spence. Glen teases both of you all the time, and why else would you be spending so much time with him?"_

_I was on my feet, anger coursing through me though she'd done nothing wrong. _

_But I had, and she had every right to be angry with me._

_"Wow, I never, in a million years, thought that you'd be so...," She spluttered. "Dense."_

_She was on her feet and staring a hole through me with blue lasers. "You seriously think that just because I'm spending time with Aiden that I'm whoring around with him?"_

_Well... I guess I had._

_"You really think that little of me."_

_Again, a statement, and again, I guess that I had, but I hadn't meant too._

_"And you thought this because Glen is just so fucking smart?"_

_Well, I mean, it was more than just Glen... but mostly._

_She laughs humorlessly. "Did it ever once cross your mind to ask me what was up?"_

_"That's what this is..."_

_Whew, I got one of those thoughts out there. _

_Too bad that it did absolutely no good._

_"You call this asking!? You call me over and over, then hang up when I call back, then accused me of being some slut, avoiding you, and abandoning you..."_

_She was about to continue, but I was taking a turn. _

_"Now wait just a minute, I asked you what was going on and you said...," To my everlasting shame, I made air quotes. "It's complicated."_

_"IT IS," she yelled._

_"WHY IS IT COMPLICATED," I yelled back._

_"BECAUSE IT'S A SURPRISE PARTY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!"_

_Wow, okay, first I noted how quiet it had suddenly become. And mainly, I noticed that first because I was avoiding the deep, deep embarrassment that was about to follow._

_And then, then the embarrassment came unbidden and flushed to my face._

_"Oh," I said lamely._

_"Yeah, Ash. Oh..."_

_She shook her head, grabbed her hoodie, and made for the door, but I grabbed her arm. "Spence, wait..."_

_I'd beg if I had to._

_I turned her but her arms were crossed and she wouldn't look at me. "I'm sorry... I just-"_

_Her head snapped up. "You just what, couldn't let me do something that didn't revolve around you?"_

_She laughed mirthlessly. "Even though it did..."_

_Wow, Spence. "I just didn't understand."_

_She blew out a breath and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I can believe that. You aren't exactly winning IQ points tonight."_

_Okay, I deserved that. But there was still logic in my confusion._

_"My birthday isn't for another month."_

_She threw the hoodie onto the futon a little harshly. "We wanted a big party while it was still summer. It's only a month difference."_

_Okay, but, "Why Aiden? Why not Chelsea or Glen or Clay..." _

_Or anyone else..._

_"Why does it matter?"_

_That was a good question. To which, I had no answer, at least none that I was willing to voice._

_"Why... just... Aiden?"_

_She sighed and sat down on the futon utterly defeated. "It's happening at his house. His parents are leaving for Europe this weekend. We'll have the house and the pool to ourselves."_

_I slumped down next to her, equally defeated. "What were you doing over there?"_

_"It's going to be a huge party, Ash. We have a live band coming and we needed to start getting alcohol now so that we'd have enough without getting caught. It's not easy to find buyers, especially for this much."_

_"Wow..."_

_"Happy now?"_

_Her tone was a little biting._

_I thought about her question for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, I'm a dense, but I'm also happy."_

_She chuckled. _

_"Spence...?"_

_She groaned. "What?"_

_"You know that I hate surprises."_

_"Yeah, I know."_

_A long moment of silence ensued._

_"Spence...?"_

_She thwaked me hard with one of the pillows behind her, but I was ready for the second swing and caught her hand. _

_The contact was awkward for a moment and we stared at each other before I quickly let her go._

_I cleared my throat and continued. "This is why I hate surprises."_

_She toppled me over on the futon, straddled my leg, and started to dig her fingers into my ribs. It hurt but I had no choice but laugh through it._

_"God, you're such an ass," she shouted._

_I was nearing the point of asphyxiation before she relented and slumped next to me. She laid her head on my shoulder, both of us breathing heavily and exhausted. _

_"Spence...?"_

_This time she bit me on my arm and I yowled, nearly elbowing her in the face in an effort to pull it away, but she held me in place._

_I wanted to resist, I swear..._

_"I can't believe you just bit me..."_

_She poked me playfully. "You deserved it with your paranoia and Spence this, Spence that. You're making me crazy!"_

_I lifted my arm and found a row of even, crescent-shaped marks. _

_"I can't believe you actually bit me..."_

_I mean, she really bit me. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. It was kind of... hot..._

_"Ash...?"_

_"Hm..." I was still staring at the wound and trying to puzzle out how I felt about it._

_"What were you going to say?"_

_I tried to give her a dirty look, but I could only see the top of her head. "You attack me for saying something and then want me to say it anyway?"_

_She nodded. _

_"And you call me crazy..."_

_She tilted her head and smiled cutely. "And you're crazy about me, so we're even."_

_For a moment, just a single moment, I considered telling her that it was the truth. But I didn't, and I hated myself for my cowardice._

_"So...," she tried again._

_I smiled, albeit a little sadly. "I was just going to say thanks." _

* * *

She's laughing.

God help me, but I can't be angry with her for it either.

I know that I must look spectacularly dumb right now.

I mean... "I still can't believe you bit me."

She laughs a little harder before tucking her legs up under her and sighing happily.

She's swimming in a terry cloth robe, her hair is slightly disheveled, and she's throwing all kinds of shit my way, but everything about her is a sight for sore eyes.

For a moment, just a moment, she's the same girl that I fell in love with... before I hurt her.

"That night, did you have any clue what was _really_ going on with me?"

I'm not scared anymore. I've already run away. That's the whole point of this foray down pain lane, right?

I'm trying to run backwards.

In stilettos...

And a straight jacket...

Her face becomes pensive. "You mean, did I know that you thought that you were in love with me?"

I nod once, swirling the meager contents of my mug to keep from arguing that it wasn't a thought, but the truth.

Somehow, I know that she won't be receptive.

"I had no clue at the time. I thought that you were just being selfish. And, I'll admit that I was just too wrapped up in my own confusion to deal with yours."

She smirks. "If only I'd been telepathic. It would have saved us both a lot of heartache."

Ouch...

"You mean that you would have stayed away from me?"

I set my mug down right on the glass table next to me.

Without a coaster...

Take that sea-witch.

She stares down into her mug as if it's a crystal ball, her voice small and overwhelmingly tender. "There's nothing that could have stopped me from falling in love with you, Ash. It was inevitable."

I frown. I mean, it's incredibly sweet, and my heart is swelling with hope, but... "How would telepathy have helped then?"

She sighs, setting her own mug on a matching table without a coaster.

0 for 2, sea-witch.

"If I'd have known that you were going to leave me, I could have at least tried to stop you."

"Spencer, I-..."

She stops my words with a tearful glance, her voice cracking. "Do you have _any _idea what I went through to be with you? Any at all?"

Of course I do. I was there, and it wasn't easy on me either.

* * *

_I finished hanging the last string of paper lanterns and climbed down off of the ladder to step back and look at my handiwork._

_The place looked awesome. The pool was full of various toys, the lighting was festive but intimate. The ice cream cake that looked like a giant clapperboard was chilling in the freezer along with a couple of kegs, and there was a fully stocked bar. And, of course, the band was setting up on a platform at the back of the yard._

_The patio doors opened up to the pool area, letting in the warm July air, and combining the indoors and outdoors into one massive, open expanse of party room. _

_Seventeen was a big milestone, senior year an even bigger one, and I was determined to make this party an extravaganza that Spencer wouldn't soon forget, no matter where she decided to go when we graduated. _

_She'd done no less for me nine months prior, even though I'd managed to ruin it for both of us. Because of me, Christine had overheard our shouting. She's decided to wait until Spencer left to save me the embarrassment of getting reamed publically, but the party would be cancelled, the booze confiscated, and the parents of all involved would be grounded._

_My jealousy had ruined the last leg of summer, and nearly cost me my best friend. _

_It's for that very reason that, since that night, I'd backed off of Spencer. _

_Now before you start flipping out, it's not like we weren't still seeing each other all of the time. She just couldn't be responsible for my feelings anymore. It was time for me to make myself happy, and in turn, hope beyond hope that she'd find her own happiness too._

_It had become achingly clear to me that Spencer would never be receptive to my feelings, because only two weeks after my blow-up, she'd started dating a guy named Patrick. Apparently, her mom had set her up with him and they'd hit it off._

_He was nice enough, if not a little conceited and a complete douche, but he seemed to really like Spencer. Spencer at least kept me in the loop, so the best friend traditions were being observed to the full extent. And it opened us up to talk more about those things, though I quickly learned that I hated it. _

_She'd had her first kiss and was dating regularly. She'd even let him feel her up. Do you see why I hated it? I mean, be careful what you ask for. But then, to make it worse, she was constantly asking about my romantic life and guys, but I just didn't want one - double intender intended. _

_She didn't know that I was hurting over her, and she sure didn't know that I was gay - like, straight up no interest in guys at all, lesbian. It was just going to take time to get over her, and well, until then, I was kind of like a neutered puppy. If not for a broken heart, I'd probably have been breaking a few hearts of my own._

_Ultimately, I just wasn't sure how she'd react, and I didn't want to strain our friendship any more than it already was. And it was, she wasn't aware of that either._

_So I found myself with some free time on my hands while she went and did her hetero mating rituals, which was often, and both music and programming had proved to be very therapeutic. _

_I was officially the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of The Runaway Chase. _

_Yes, I chose the name. _

_Apt, right?_

_And then, you know, homage to Lita..._

_We had a full set of originals, but tonight would be mostly covers. Either way, we stuck to a distinct, yet familiar indie rock sound with a little electronic synth mixed in._

_That just so happened to be my favorite._

_This party for Spencer was sort of a sending off if you will. Once school hit we'd be focused on homework, and I'd be focused on music while she focused on her boyfriend. And of course, there was also college preperation. _

_I still hadn't chosen a college, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to attend one. I pretty much didn't have anything worked out, and that was probably one of the more noticeable differences between me and Spencer._

_I always knew that I wanted to play music and I didn't need a degree for that. I'd been writing and recording my own stuff at home for years, and I already had a ton of training under my belt. And now, with my band, I was racking up experience via local venues on the weekend. _

_Bands rarely made it big in the industry, but I decided to live in the moment, future be damned._

_Spencer never really had a passion like that. It was almost as if she enjoyed too many things to ever be able to select just one. But, when the career fair came to campus just before summer break, she'd finally found her calling: she wanted to direct movies. _

_It made sense really. She'd always been nuts about movies. She'd taught me everything that I knew, and ever since then, there's been a camera permanently attached to her hand. It would be irritating if not for the light in her eyes when she's behind it._

_And I wanted her to have that light forever. I hoped that she'd find it in both the professional and romantic realms. I hoped those things for myself as well, however lofty._

_"We're all set," Aiden said happily. "Bring on the hot girls in bikinis!"_

_He gave me a lascivious grin and I punched him in his arm. I knew that I was hot, and I knew that wearing nothing more than a black bikini top and daisy dukes only made it worse, but he was such a... well, guy. _

_He couldn't be allowed to get away with it._

_My cell buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a text that read, "Half an hour."_

_"K," was all that he'd be getting back._

_As I mentioned, Patrick seemed like an alright guy, but we weren't friends. I'd never really like him at no fault of his own, and it just felt gross getting texts from him. _

_"Spencer will be here in half an hour," I relayed to Aiden._

_He grinned and pulled out his own phone, swiping his finger across the screen a few times before stowing it again._

_My phone buzzed again but I didn't need to look. It was Aiden's group text. People would be arriving any time now, and as if on cue, the doorbell rang. _

_Aiden opened both front doors and just left them that way. People started trickling in immediately, and I could see the headlights of more cars coming up the drive._

_I watched as a couple of the first arrivals helped Aiden set the kegs in Rubbermaid buckets full of ice and decided to go and warm up with the band until she got here._

_We tuned up and started a lazy free-style to work out the kinks. It seemed like only minutes before Aiden came running up, swiping a hand across his throat for us to kill it. _

_This was it._

_The house was packed with bodies by the time that Patrick was helping Spencer up the steps to Aiden's front door. A blindfold was obscuring her vision and everyone was ungodly quiet as they parted to let the couple through._

_Patrick carefully led her around the pool to our low stage, and nodded to me just before unceremoniously tearing the blindfold away. _

_Spencer's eyes were wide with confusion as she glanced around in shock. _

_The whole of Whickliffe high yelled, "SURPRISE!" _

_I could tell that she was embarrassed, but she was smiling. When her eyes met mine, I immediately broke out in an electric shredding solo of happy birthday, embellishing when possible and letting my freak flag fly. _

_And, if I was being honest, I was rubbing my skill in Patrick's face a little. When I'd first met him he had been excited to learn that I play because he was a guitarist a well. I hadn't realized until he picked up my guitar to show me some stuff, that he'd immediately assumed that he was better than me._

_Man, he'd been so wrong..._

_I mean, Lita Ford was my hero..._

_His style was more contemporary praise and worship._

_I think I bruised his ego a little bit._

_Once the last grungy note squealed out of my strat, the band kicked in for a more traditional run through of the song, and everyone in the crowd sang along. _

_Spencer was beaming and holding her hands to her chest. I was surprised to see the camera missing. Patrick must have forced her to leave it. He really hated that thing._

_ The song finished and everyone cheered. _

_"Happy Birthday, Spence," I said into the mic. _

_Patrick pulled her into his arms and leaned in for a deep kiss. I looked away, focusing on the rest of the crowd and forcing myself into the energy of it all. _

_I'd be okay if I could play some music._

_"Is everyone ready to PARTY," I shouted and there was another round of screaming._

_"We're The Runaway Chase, and since it's Spencer's birthday, be sure to embarrass the shit out of her!"_

_The screams mixed with chuckles and even a couple of wolf whistles, and Spencer pried herself away from Patrick long enough to give me a scathing look. _

_I ignored her, grinning like a fool._

_Everyone was pumped up enough to start so the drummer kicked us off into a cover of The Yeah Yeah Yeah's Phenomena and I lost myself in the set. We played some Runaways, Naked and Famous, Metric, and Dead Weather to name a few._

_I was feeling pretty good by the end. The music was upbeat but slightly angry, so it was therapeutic. I slunk off of the stage and smiled my way through all of the adoring drunkards and pool splashers. I was in desperate need of a bottle of water. It was warm out and playing always made me feel sticky. _

_Once the water bottle was empty, I traded it for two red solo cups full of suds and started to look for Spencer. She'd danced at the stage for a while before Patrick had pulled her away into the house._

_That had been about an hour ago. I searched the sea of people, albeit slowly. I was stopped every few seconds to be adored, and I soaked it up easily with smiles and only mild annoyance at Spencer's absence._

_I took a sip from the second cup, the other empty a while ago, and sat down on the foot of the staircase. _

_Maybe they'd left...?_

_A boy and girl came down the steps and I had to scoot over to let them pass. They were holding hands, her hair was mussed, and both of them were flushed. A dark thought struck me and I glanced up to the top of the stairs._

_I hadn't checked up there._

_I finished off my beer and got to my feet, hanging my cup like a hat on the bannister before working my way up. I side-stepped the trash and apprehensively checked the frantically groping party-goers that lined the walls, but none of them were Spencer. _

_I did get a few dirty looks though..._

_Aiden's house was pretty much a mini-mansion, so there were at least five rooms up here, as well as a couple of bathrooms._

_I decided to start with the first door on my left. It wasn't locked, so I peeked inside. The couple on the bed was going at it pretty good, but there was a lamp on in the room and not a single blonde hair in sight, curtains or drapes._

_Yeesh... _

_I breathed a sigh of relief and closed the door quietly before making my way to the next door._

_This door was locked but I didn't need to look in there. There's no way that the girl inside was Spencer. This chick was yowling like a howler monkey in heat to the slaps and grunts of her partner's thrusts._

_The door across the way was locked but I heard a toilet flush. So I moved to the next door, stopping dead in my tracks when I heard the voices inside having a heated argument._

_"God, Spencer, what's the problem!?"_

_"I'm sorry..."_

_I could hear rustling. And since when was her voice so small? She'd never put up with that shit..._

_"It's Ashley, isn't it?"_

_"Ashley has nothing to do with this, Patrick." _

_Well, that was more like her, but I slumped against the wall, unable to move._

_"I've seen the way she looks at you," he said angrily. "And you... you like it!"_

_It became incredibly quiet, and the atmosphere inside of the room grew so thick that I could see green fog seeping from beneath the door._

_"You... like her...don't you?" This time, his voice was low and accusing._

_My heart nearly burst from my ribs and my head started reeling. And it had nothing to do with the two cups of beer._

_It also had nothing to do with Aiden's booming voice._

_"Ashley, there you are!" He came bounding over to me like a golden retriever puppy with a tennis ball in its mouth. _

_I shot off of the wall, held my hands out, and shook my head frantically in a silent plea._

_"Your bandmates are looking for-"_

_He finally caught on, but it was too late. The door next to me had opened and a furious Patrick was standing there still buttoning up his shirt. His eyes raked over me like he was trying to set me on fire before he gave Spencer one last seething look over his shoulder._

_"Fucking dykes," he mumbled before brushing past me, and without any real intention, I found my foot hooking his leg to send him sprawling in the hallway._

_He stood up slowly, and for a moment I thought that he was going to hit me, but Aiden put himself in the way and shoved him back. _

_"Get out of my house, asshole."_

_There was no mistaking the threat in his voice._

_Patrick seemed to think about it for a moment before turning and leaving in a huff._

_Aiden turned to me with apology in his eyes and I reached up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek._

_I wasn't sure why I'd felt the need to do that, but sometimes he showed just how big and loyal his heart was, despite the fact that he was just... a guy._

_He blushed a little, and it was kind of cute considering how huge he was. He scrubbed at the back of his neck and awkwardly pointed down the hallway before ambling that way without a word._

_My attention went straight to Spencer. I didn't know what to make of what I'd just seen or heard._

_I pushed the door open a little and found her folded up on the floor, her back resting against the foot of the rumpled bed while she hugged her knees to her chest._

_She was wearing only her underwear and one of her bra straps was hanging loose down her arm. Her ponytail was lopsided and she seemed so small and so broken. _

_I shut the door and sat next to her, mirroring her pose. She hadn't looked up at me when I'd approached, so I just sat there, figuring that she'd talk when she was ready._

_It took at least ten minutes._

_"I couldn't do it, Ash," she choked out._

_I frowned for a moment, but then her words clicked with her appearance._

_I'd kill that bastard..._

_She lifted her head and finally looked over at me, resting her tear streaked face on her knees. "I couldn't sleep with him."_

_I wanted to hate myself when a wave of relief swept through me. I should have been more worried about how she was feeling._

_God, I was a truly terrible friend. She'd needed me and I hadn't been paying attention. He could have raped her, and I wouldn't have even known. _

_Well, I was paying attention now. _

_"It's okay to not be ready, Spence."_

_She shook her head and swiped angrily at her eyes before leaning her head back against the bed. "That's not what I mean."_

_Okay, so I was even more confused. She felt bad for not being ready when he was or... what?_

_"I am ready," she said._

_Oh..._

_She turned her head and looked right at me, right through me. "Just not with him."_

_I gulped. _

_We'd never talked about it this in-depth before. Sex was always something that had been hanging over my head like a guillotine. And for whatever reason, Spencer avoided it too. I just didn't know her reasons, and I couldn't bring myself to ask._

_But maybe now I could be the good friend, despite my feelings._

_I didn't want to know, but she needed to talk, so I just opened the door._

_"Then who?"_

_If she said Aiden, I was going to hang myself._

_Shaking sobs overtook her slowly at first, but then picked up in intensity. I pulled her to me, tears stinging my own eyes though I had no idea why. I just hated to see her hurting so badly._

_How had I not seen that she was hurting so badly?_

_She buried her face in my neck and wept for a long time, and I just held her and rocked her and stroked her, having no idea what else to do. Besides, my mind was still trying to figure her out._

_The tears finally subsided and that's when she surprised the hell out of me._

_"I'm gay, Ash."_

_It was almost so quiet that I didn't hear it._

_"I don't want to be, but I just can't help it, and my family's going to hate me."_

_Now I understood, really understood. I was gay too, but I wasn't worried about Christine or Kyla. Christine didn't tell me how to live my life, so much as remove the bad and smack my hand when I tried to reach for it anyway._

_But her parents... Mrs. C was a complete control freak, and she was religious._

_I had no idea what to say to my best friend who I'd been neglecting when she'd needed me the most. I had no idea how to fix anything for her. And ultimately, even if I did, I couldn't. No one could fix this situation but her parents._

_All I could do was make myself just as vulnerable and see if knowing that she wasn't alone would help._

_"I'm gay too, Spence."_

_Immediately a weight lifted from my chest, and I didn't just mean Spencer's head. She was looking at me in confusion and shock but I just felt free. _

_Hell, I was smiling._

_"I'm gay."_

_There, I'd said it again. It felt even better the second time, that is until Spencer shot to her feet. _

_"What," she asked._

_I frowned and stood up as well. "I'm gay too, so, so I get it..."_

_Oh, fuck..._

_Where was that whole don't be rash and impulsive talk now?_

_"When did that happen?"_

_Why did she sound so affronted, as if I'd just slapped her?_

_God help me, I was sputtering, saying things without thinking them through. _

_"I guess, I've always kind of known, but I didn't really realize it until..."_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..._

_"Until what?"_

_At least her voice was gentler now._

_I exhaled heavily. There was only so much that could be cleared up in one night, and she didn't need a declaration of eternal love and devotion added to her already full plate._

_And, I was a coward._

_And I was trying to talk myself out of it._

_I mean, just because she was gay, didn't mean that she'd want me._

_"It's... it just clicked," I deflected._

_"How," she asked forcefully._

_I stared at my fidgeting fingers. "Spence, don't ask things if... if you might not like the answers."_

_She slumped onto the bed. "Was it some fan girl...?"_

_I sat down next to her and stared nonplussed. "Oh my God... No, Spence. I haven't done... that... yet."_

_She sniffled and seemed to relax a little bit, but she was still so sad._

_Oh well, here goes nothing._

_I reached over and turned her face to mine, gently stroking a thumb over her cheek to clear away a fresh tear._

_She was flushed, her face wet and the skin around her red eyes was puffy, but I loved her all the more for it._

_I was just about to tell her that, but the words tangled up in my mouth. I didn't know how to say it; I didn't know how she'd take it; I only knew that I felt it. And for the first time, I wanted her to feel it too. _

_I leaned in instinctively and tenderly pressed my lips to hers. It was only a brief contact, over before I could really register the feel of it, but all of my apprehension and fear dissipated._

_It felt as if I had been born for this, born to love her. And all of my insecurities melted away when she leaned in and kissed me back._

_Something I didn't even have a name for roared to life inside of me. My skin felt tighter. The throbbing of my heart was noticeable in places that hadn't really registered before. _

_I gasped, she stole that breath, and before I knew it, the kiss had deepened. It became firmer, warmer, and wetter._

_My fingers found their way to her neck and I felt a caress to my thigh. I was on sensory overload. I hadn't entertained these needs before and they wanted to come rushing out with a resounding, "YIPEE." _

_But this was Spencer. What I wanted didn't matter in the face of what she needed._

_And what she needed was gentleness and kindness and a return on some of that warmth that I'd been sapping from her since the day that I'd met her._

_I pulled back, reluctantly breaking the kiss and looking into her eyes._

_She smiled a very Spencer smile, even when more tears came. And I held her close. I had no idea what would happen from here. I only knew that whatever it was, I'd love her through it._


	5. Chapter 5: The Golden Years, Part 3

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**SoNFan - Thank you so much for your input. I'm going to break these up by one set of current day dialogue and one memory from here on out, at least until the memories stop. Let me know how this works for you. I tend to write pretty fast and I'm used to writing novel length fics. **

**Guest #1 - You said that you liked the long chapters, so let me know if my new breaking works for you as well. Either way, the amount of content will not change. There will just be more chapters.**

**Son-lyn - Thanks for giving me some feedback on this fandom and its readership. I figured that reviews would be a bit slower considering the time that's passed since the show was off the air. But I also know that there are always those loyal stragglers unwilling to let their favorite fandoms go, probably like you, and that's who I'm trying to tap into. I'm really gauging the amount of visitors versus the reviews. Fifteen times more people are reading it than they are reviewing. And several have followed it without reviewing. As to your suggestion to give it some time, do you mean that I should maybe not update so quickly or that I should get as much up as is written so that people will trust in the completion of the story? **

**As to the point of view, it's always Ashley telling a story, some from memory and then some as it happens. I use it to keep you up-to-date on how each memory came to be as well as just play with you guys. Do you just dislike it in general or do you dislike how I specifically use it? **

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - The Golden Years, Part 3**

"Spencer, that's not really fair. You didn't come out to your parents for me. You came out to your parents because you're gay... well, and your dad caught us."

She's crying now, but it's not the heaving, wretched kind of crying of someone releasing fresh pain. She's already done that, I'm sure. These tears just sort of leak out quietly, and I feel them like a knife in my heart.

"I know," she says dejectedly. "You're right."

"Has your mom finally come to terms?"

"Still just dad."

I nod sadly. It makes sense. Mr. C was always more thoughtful, forgiving, and open than his wife.

So, so much more...

* * *

_Spencer was officially my girlfriend. No one else knew it, but I sure as fuck did._

_How did I know?_

_I mean..._

_She was lying there next to me, the movie completely forgotten in the background, so forgotten in fact, that Spencer didn't even notice that it was The Exorcist._

_Her eyes never strayed to the television, not even once. They were too busy following her gentle, teasing hand as it mapped different areas of my skin. _

_Where was it? Well..._

_It had started in my hair, and it had stayed there for quite some time playing delicately in the auburn waves. I'd just closed my eyes and focused on the sensations that it inspired. _

_Then it had tickled a path across my cheekbone and whispered softly over my eyelashes. _

_I had a phobia of eyes, and for good reason, but I didn't flinch, this time. Twitch, maybe... Like, low in my abdomen, but no flinching._

_Then it had reached my nose and I couldn't help the smile that had crinkled the skin under it. _

_I'd heard her chuckle before she'd moved on to the corner of my mouth, where I'd turned ever-so-slightly to kiss the pad of it tenderly._

_That had ended its tortuous exploration, because then we were kissing. She was slightly on top of me. Her warm weight was comforting and I raised my leg to hook it over one of hers to draw her in closer. Her hand found the skin of my stomach, and my hand found the slope of her back._

_I felt her mouth open slightly and took advantage, slipping my tongue inside to glide it sensually against hers. She whimpered a little and that only made us grind against each other, our bodies seeking friction of their own accord._

_I had been wrong that I would just sink into my music and programming to forget her for our senior year. _

_So, so wrong. _

_In fact, the opposite had happened, though I'd tried to fight it. If it weren't for the fact that my AP classes required a ton of homework every night, she would easily fail high school. It was me who pulled away and if I didn't, what we were doing right now totally wouldn't stop._

_Spencer was an animal, wild and untamed and all over me all of the time. And I wasn't complaining, but this was Spencer. She was so much more than the sum of her parts, even when I wanted to devour all of them._

_But this was a dangerous game that we were playing. It had been seven months, but her family didn't know yet. No one did. If we got caught... _

_Spencer didn't seem to care and I was caring less by the second._

_She pulled away from my mouth and I groaned at the loss. I was now able to breathe, so that was a plus, but only mildly. Her hair tickled over my face as her lips found that little patch of super sensitive skin beneath my ear and that was it._

_We had to stop._

_"Spence..."_

_Her tongue curled around my earlobe and she suckled gently._

_"Fuck, Spence..."_

_"Mm Hm," she hummed, the vibrations sending goose flesh radiating out across my entire body and curling my toes. _

_"Spencer..." _

_I raised my hand to push on her shoulder, really I did. I was trying to stop, but somehow, magically, I found myself cupping a full breast and brushing my thumb across the peak._

_It was an accident..._

_She gasped against my neck and her breathing elevated. She pressed more of herself into me, though I wasn't sure how it was possible. Her mouth was more demanding and urgent, and I was vibrating with need. _

_She moaned and the sound shot straight to my center. It was loud and longing and, and, oh fuck..._

_Clay... was just... next door. _

_I fumbled my hand higher, forcing myself to put distance between us. I was losing all sanity to passion. _

_"Spence..."_

_There was a plea in my voice but I wasn't sure if I was asking for more or less at this point._

_"Okay," she said, slowly lifting off of me and flopping onto her back next to me. "Okay, I'll stop."_

_I threw my arm over my eyes in exasperation, but it also served to keep me from looking over at her. If I did, I wouldn't be able to help myself. My body was not well._

_And then, she had to go and make it worse._

_"What if I don't want to stop," she asked quietly._

_My arm was gone and I was looking at her. That wasn't a good idea. She wanted me and I was desperate for her. I was shaking with it. I sure as fuck didn't want to stop, but it was a school night and her family was all around us. Somehow I didn't think that her dad would take too well to me deflowering his daughter right above his head with his son next door listening in._

_Seriously though, why were we stopping? Maybe not here and now, but why hadn't we? _

_"It's only been a few months, Spence..."_

_That's the only reason that I could think of that we'd been holding back. But in reality, it had been seven months, and now that I'd said it out loud, it just didn't make sense._

_Why was I making excuses?_

_"Do you want to," she asked?_

_I gave her a sardonic look and she laughed, burying her face in my shoulder and tossing an arm and leg over me._

_"Okay, so...," she tried again. "I mean, if you're not ready, that's fine, Ash. But, I guess for me, I've been waiting a really long time."_

_I exhaled heavily. I could relate. Three and a half years for me._

_"How long," I asked, rolling to my side to face her and pull her in close._

_She nuzzled her nose against mine sweetly before kissing me softly. A smile graced her lips as she pulled back to look into my eyes._

_She brushed the hair from my forehead almost shyly before answering. "Remember that night that I did your make-up for the first time?"_

_I smiled, and mimicked her voice to the best of my ability."Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!"_

_I then slapped a hand over my mouth and looked at her with wide eyes. _

_She laughed and swatted me on my stomach. "Okay, so you remember."_

_Shit-eating grin, that's what I was wearing._

_"That long," I asked surprised._

_She nodded. "That song, when you sang it to me, I thought that I might die."_

_I shook my head. That was almost five years ago..._

_"Didn't you ever wonder why I always asked for it," she asked._

_"I thought you were just quirky."_

_She poked me in the ribs and I took her hand to kiss it gently before twining our fingers. _

_"But I love that about you." I reassured. "I love everything about you."_

_And then it was out there, kind of hanging over us, that one little word that neither of us had said yet._

_"You... love me," she asked seriously._

_I gulped. I was trapped. I could be honest and say yes, which might scare her, or I could lie and say no, which would hurt her and offend her. _

_I was so fucked._

_And I was so whipped._

_"Yeah, Spence. I always have..."_

_I'd never heard my voice shake like that._

_I watched her face worriedly as a myriad of emotions played out. First, there was puzzlement, which then became awe, which then became a tearful smile._

_I relaxed a little when she squeezed my hand._

_"I love you too, Ash."_

_I inhaled sharply and the air got caught in my throat. No one had ever said that to me. Well, maybe Kyla, but she was just a baby._

_Spencer was the first person with a choice who chose me._

_I felt the water on my face before I even realized that I was crying. She pulled my head beneath her chin and I dug my face in as my hands held on for dear life. _

_She was crying too, but that was okay. Isn't this how it should be? Shouldn't it almost hurt, as if it means so much that old wounds started to painfully mend?_

_Shouldn't it affect your very soul?_

_"I love you," she said again, almost as if she knew that I needed to hear it._

_I hadn't even known how much I needed to hear it._

_"I love you, Ashley Davies, with all my heart."_

_I cried harder and she held on tighter. _

_"You're my heart," she whispered._

_I wasn't sure how long we'd lie that way, but the light outside of the window had turned from yellow to gray, and my tears had long dried. It was warm and safe, the cocoon of her arms, and I wasn't ready to let her go, but we'd be have to part soon._

_I still hadn't touched my homework..._

_I reluctantly pulled away and smiled when I saw that she'd fallen asleep. _

_This beautiful, warm young woman loved me._

_Me..._

_I still couldn't get used to it. _

_But I knew that it was true._

_I felt an unreasonable desire to kiss her, and so I did. I propped myself up on an elbow and started slow and soft, leaving butterfly kisses on her cheeks and forehead._

_When she stirred slightly, I drew closer to her soft mouth but didn't go past the corner. She smiled and stretched and opened her gorgeous eyes. And everything about her struck me._

_"God, you're so beautiful...," I breathed reverently._

_She blushed prettily and I adored her for it._

_"What time is it," she asked through a yawn._

_I smiled and stretched my neck to see the alarm clock. "It's almost eight."_

_"Mm," she hummed, her lids closing._

_That just wouldn't do._

_"I have to go soon..."_

_"No..."_

_The pout on her face was pathetic, and I leaned in to claim that soft, protruding bottom lip. She sighed at the contact and threaded her fingers in my hair to pull me in deeper. I was a willing captive to her mouth and her hands and her heart._

_I never wanted this to end._

_"It's dinner time, you tw-o...," his words died away._

_I scrambled back off of Spencer and had to catch myself from falling over the edge of the bed. I wound up on my haunches staring at the door dumbly._

_"Dad," Spencer breathed._

_Oh, God..._

_He seemed to debate with himself, moving to leave only to stop, come back, and then do it again. He did the hokey pokey at least four times before finally making up his mind and stepping awkwardly into the room._

_My heart fell into my toes as he quietly shut the door behind him, grabbed the computer chair, rolled it to the bed, and sat down._

_Oh fuck. I wanted to start running but Spencer..._

_I looked at her to see that her hands were fisting the hair at her temples, as if she were going to tear it out._

_Oh fuck..._

_The way that Mr. C's shoulders were slumped and his hands steepled between his knees, I thought for sure that he was stewing in silent rage._

_It was going to come at any moment..._

_It was surprising how gentle his voice was and earnest his kind eyes were. _

_"How long have you... known," he asked simply._

_I looked to Spencer for the lead, but she hadn't moved._

_Should I answer? _

_I put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. That rejection hurt me and I curled in on myself, not really sure what to do now. She noticed and looked up at me apologetically, taking my hand in her own and threading our fingers._

_"Spence, should I go," I whispered._

_She shook her head vehemently. "Please stay."_

_"Spencer, Ashley, it's okay," Mr. C said soothingly. "I'm not angry."_

_She looked over at him. "You're not?"_

_"Of course not, honey. I was just... well, I sort of saw this coming, but it took so long... and then there was Patrick..."_

_I wanted to laugh at the disgusted look on his face. He didn't like Patrick any more than I did... _

_Spencer was just stunned. "You knew...?"_

_"Don't look so shocked, Spencer. I'm a therapist for at-risk kids." He smiled at me pointedly and I couldn't help but smile back. "I deal with sexuality crisis all the time."_

_"How did you...," She was fumbling. "With me...?"_

_He sighed. "Well, I don't think it was any one thing. It's just the way you carry yourself. You've always been take-charge, even as a child." _

_He chuckled and I chuckled with him. Who could argue? She bossed me around all of the time. _

_Spencer wasn't as amused. She squeezed my hand painfully and I hastened to wipe the smile from my face to appear properly chastised. _

_Mr. C chuckled again and gestured to me. "See...?"_

_"You're saying you knew that I'm gay because I'm bossy?"_

_He shrugged. "I just felt that something was different about you."_

_"Different," she repeated darkly. "Like, off?"_

_"No, I mean special, bolder, less inhibited..." _

_He met her eyes earnestly. "I don't think that there's anything wrong with you, Spencer. But I am disappointed."_

_I trained my eyes on him with that._

_"I wish that you'd have trusted me enough to tell me. I'm just sorry that you couldn't."_

_Spencer's eyes teared up, and I swallowed thickly. _

_"Will you tell me now how long you've known?"_

_Spencer ran a hand through her hair only further mussing it. "Since... since I was twelve."_

_That seemed to hurt him and it explained so much for me. We'd both avoided romantic topics because we were both in the same boat._

_God, so much time had been wasted worrying..._

_"And how long have you two been together," he followed up._

_Spencer smiled shyly at me. "About seven months."_

_I smoothed my thumb over the back of her hand and nodded my agreement. "Seven months, four days, and sixteen hours."_

_They both stared at me for a moment before Mr. C laughed and Spencer beamed a grin._

_"That's all," he asked surprised. "Well then...," He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. "I don't feel so bad now. But you still could have told me."_

_Spencer scooted herself to the edge of the bed._

_"So you're really not mad?"_

_He crouched in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Spencer, you're my daughter, and I love you no matter what."_

_She threw her arms around his neck and he hugged her tight, meeting my eyes over her shoulder. "You too," he said._

_Wow, twice in one day..._

_"What about mom," Spencer asked as she released him._

_He frowned. "She loves you too, Spencer, but I can talk to her later tonight, if you want."_

_Spencer sighed with relief. "Thank you, daddy."_

_"You're welcome. Now..."_

_He slapped both of us on a knee before standing and rubbing his hands together. _

_"Who's hungry," he finished, his smile as big as his daughter's._


	6. Chapter 6 - The Golden Years, Part 4

**See part 1 for disclaimers. Additional Note: This is not safe for work. This story is rated M for a reason. Please, if you're underage, do not read this.**

**Titan Reader - Thank you for the positive encouragement. I ask for a lot of criticism, so it's good to get a little love. I'm so glad that you're liking it. I have no plans not to continue and the story is nearly done, just not fully proofed and posted. You guys are about halfway through right now. :D**

**Lane Leo - I hate to say it, but I've never been to Ohio. I found Wickliffe online and did a little research so that I could set up the location just right for both hillbilly Ashley and city living Spencer. But I'm glad that you're not only enjoying the story, but that you find it relatable. Thank you so much for your feedback and kind words. **

**Guest #1 - I'm glad that you're fine with shorter posts. I want everyone to have a good experience with this story. Thank you for consistently responding. I really value and appreciate your input. I'm glad that you're enjoying the fluff, but don't get too complacent. These are the golden years, but nothing gold can stay. I'm excited to get to the current day storyline. It's coming soon.**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Golden Years, Part 4**

"Your mom would shit a brick if she knew I was here right now."

We both chuckle and she waves a dismissive arm.

"Don't take it personally, Ash. She hates anyone I'm seeing if they have a vagina."

She shrugs, her voice ironic. "But they always do..."

We laugh a little harder this time and then something about that comment strikes me.

"Have there been, you know, a lot?"

She cocks her head at me. "I don't know if I want to answer that."

"Why, Spencer Carlin, are you a heartbreaker?"

Of course she is.

Just look at her...

"I'm not a heartbreaker," she defends indignantly. "It's just, no one's stuck." And then as a hastily added afterthought, "I mean, until Carmen, of course."

"Uh huh," I placate. "Of course."

"You know that I'm the commitment type."

That much is true. "So what's the problem: fear of commitment, they're spaghetti lesbians... what?"

She scrunches up her face. "Spaghetti lesbians?"

"You know... straight until wet."

She giggles. "Oh my God, that's priceless."

I smile slyly at her. "So... what's the problem?"

She sighs and I can tell by the pensive expression on her face that I'm wearing her down with my charm. She's going to give anytime...

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

Bingo...

"I'm not really sure what happens. It's like everything's great for about a year, and then... they run away."

She shrugs, at a loss for words.

"Ooh," I coo. "That bad, huh?"

She narrows her eyes.

"But the sea-uh, I mean, Carmen... she's a keeper?"

I'm fishing. I know it and she knows it, but she's flattered, so whatever.

"I'll have you know that Carmen and I have been together for two years," she boasts.

She holds up two fingers as if this shows just how serious they are.

Hm, that means there have been three total in four years. Two years is nothing to scoff at though. They're obviously serious; they live together. Why has the sea-witch stuck?

I lean forward and grin devilishly. "Has she met your mother?"

She's quiet.

I'll take that as a no.

It makes sense. Mrs. C certainly had a way with the ladies.

* * *

_Two days felt like an eternity._

_And it may as well have been._

_It was two days without hugs, without kisses, without talking, without sappy texts, without sore ribs, without fighting to watch something that wasn't hearts and puppies and rainbows. _

_It was two days without air._

_Spencer hadn't come to school or answered her phone and Glen wouldn't speak to me, but at least I had Clay. _

_He'd told me that his parents had fought, that Mrs. C couldn't and wouldn't abide Spencer being gay, that I was never allowed in their home again, and that Spencer was grounded until she was better - whatever that meant._

_But he'd also told me that he and Mr. C were on Spencer's side and trying to diffuse the situation. _

_"Just give it some time to blow over," he'd said._

_So I had been trying, but today, when I'd come home from school, some things had happened. There had been another car in the driveway. I hadn't really thought anything of it until I saw a bald man come running from the house with a furious Mr. C hot on his heels shouting something about 'psycho babble bullshit.'_

_And that's when I'd seen Spencer for a split second at her front door. We'd locked eyes. Even from a distance I could see the anger, confusion, and hurt. She took a step towards me and I was about to run to her, but she'd been pulled inside, her mother filling the space with her palpable hatred before closing the door altogether._

_That hadn't deterred me though. Before I'd known it, I was at the door and ringing the bell like I had a nervous tick._

_And maybe I had._

_Mrs. C had answered only to immediately try to shut the door in my face, but I'd stuck my foot in the jamb. _

_"Go away, Ashley. You're not welcome here," she'd said._

_"SPENCER," I'd shouted, completely ignoring her._

_She'd attempted to shut the door again so I'd only dug in harder._

_"SPENCER!"_

_"Ashley...? Oh my God, mom, what are you doing?!"_

_I'd felt the door give a little and pushed, opening it enough to squeeze inside._

_"Spence," I said, reaching to take her in my arms._

_I'd almost had her but Mrs. C had been a step ahead. She'd pulled me back by my hair and flung me back out through the door._

_I'd felt immense anger coursing through me. The situation had been bad enough without a bitch move like hair pulling. _

_"You may be able to keep Spencer away from me, Paula, but you can't keep me away from her."_

_I'd never called her Paula before and she'd felt it for the disrespectful slap that it had been. _

_She'd leaned in close, her voice spiteful. "Watch me." _

_"Mom, I love her," Spencer had cried._

_"NO YOU DON'T," she'd replied shrilly. _

_And then, almost as if she'd flipped a light switch, her voice had turned almost loving. "Spencer, you're just confused..."_

_She'd reached for Spencer but she had been denied. "No, mom, I'm not! Why can't you just accept that this is who I am?!"_

_And yet again, Mrs. C had flipped that switch. "BECAUSE WHO YOU ARE IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!"_

_I'd tried again to get to Spencer but Paula had seemed to become unnaturally strong, shoving me back, shutting the door in my face, and locking it before I could even stop myself from falling. _

_I'd listened to them shout from the outside for a while longer before Mr. C had come up behind me and gave me a hug._

_"Don't worry, Ashley. I'm going to make this right," he'd said. _

_And with that, he'd unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him._

_I had already been going out of my mind, but after that..._

_Well, now I was really losing it._

_What was going on?_

_I looked at my phone for the hundredth time, willing it to ring, but it didn't._

_I had to do something, see her at the very least, but it was after eleven._

_What would I need if Christine were treating me that way?_

_I stopped pacing as it hit me like a sack of bricks. _

_I'd run..._

_I slumped down on the bed. _

_We could run..._

_Without really thinking it through, I hastened to call Aiden. I didn't have a car or much money, but I knew how to survive. I just needed a little help._

_Aiden voice was sleepy. "Hulloh...?"_

_"Aiden, I need your help," I said in a rush._

_"Ash?" I heard rustling. "It's almost midnight. What's going on?"_

_Shit, he still didn't know. _

_"Um, you know how Spencer hasn't been in school for the last two days?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Well, it's a long story, but her mom's holding her hostage."_

_"Ash... are you high?"_

_I laughed almost hysterically. "No, Aiden, I'm serious. She's taken Spencer's phone and won't let her out of the house."_

_"Why would her mom do that? Is she grounded?"_

_"Well... yeah, I think so."_

_"Okay..., so I don't see the problem."_

_"Aiden, look... just... I'm gay, okay?"_

_Dead silence. Like, not a word._

_"Aiden?"_

_Fuck. I looked at the phone to be sure that he hadn't hung up but it was still connected. _

_I sighed. "Aiden, did you hear me?"_

_"Just a sec, Ash."_

_I heard a toilet flush and wanted to pull my hair out. Guys... I swear._

_"Okay, so you're gay. What does that have to do with Spencer?"_

_Did I really need to spell it out? Wait, yeah, guys..._

_"Spencer and I are girlfriends, Aiden."_

_Dead silence. And then, "That's hot."_

_Oh, for fuck's sake..._

_GUYS!_

_"Aiden, can you please get your head out of your ass? I'm having a crisis here."_

_"Sorry..."_

_I could hear the smile in his voice. He totally wasn't sorry._

_"Spencer's mom found out about us and she's holding Spencer hostage until she's like... I don't know... rehabilitated."_

_"Wow... that's fucked up."_

_"No kidding, so look, we need to get her out of there."_

_"And go where, Ash? She's seventeen. It sucks, but her mom can do what she wants."_

_"We'll run away. She'll be eighteen in five months, and I'm only two months later."_

_"Ash, I don't think it's a good idea. I mean, what about graduation and-"_

_"Aiden, will you help me or not?"_

_I was fed up. Nothing else mattered. I couldn't leave her there like that. What if they brainwashed her or gave her an ultimatum? _

_What if I lost her?_

_"Alright, Ash. I'll help you."_

_I closed my eyes and sighed with relief, even as a massive headache sparked to life behind my eyes. They'd been happening a lot lately and it was making it hard to think._

_"Okay, so listen, money's whatever, but I'm going to need a car, one that they won't know to look for."_

_I knew that it was a lot to ask, but there was no other option. Besides, his parents were never home and they were loaded. His mom's car sat in their garage nine months out of the year._

_"Ash, if my parents found out, they'd ship me to military school. They already found out about both parties..."_

_I rolled my eyes. "The first one was my fault, but the second one was because of that skank you were banging. No one's going to know about this but the three of us."_

_The line was quiet again but I wasn't as frustrated this time. I was more nervous. I really needed his help. And Spencer really needed my help._

_"Alright, you can take the Xterra. I'll drive mom's car until you get back. Five months, right?"_

_I smiled and nodded. "Five months, I promise."_

_"I'll be there in fifteen."_

_"Okay..., and Aiden..."_

_"Yeah...?"_

_"Thanks."_

_I could almost hear the eye roll. _

_Shit, I'd almost forgot, "Aiden?"_

_"Yeah...," his voice was tired._

_"Bring a ladder."_

_"Okay...," he drawled. "I'm hanging up now."_

_"See you in a few." _

_I hung up the phone and looked around. I had to get a move on. I grabbed a bag from my closet and started packing it with clothes before tip-toing to the bathroom to grab some toiletries. _

_"Ash, what are you doing?"_

_I nearly dropped my shampoo when I heard Kyla's quiet voice and turned to see her standing groggily in her doorway. _

_I was about to leave and I'd forgotten all about her. I felt tears well in my eyes and tramped them down. She couldn't know. _

_"I'm, uh," I looked down at my brimming arms dumbly. "Uh, just doing a little hair experiment," I whispered. _

_"Come on, let's get you to bed."_

_I walked her back into her room and pulled the covers up to her chest, feeling like a shit for lying and leaving her. She had always been part of the runaway plan, but now... I couldn't do that to her. She had a life here; she didn't need me anymore, but that didn't make it hurt any less._

_"You know I love you, right?"_

_She rolled her eyes and I chuckled. She was in that 'I'm a not a kid' phase. I swiped at my nose, just barely holding the emotions in._

_"Okay, well, get some sleep, okay?"_

_I walked to the door, refusing to look back. But I did stop when I heard her say, "Love you too, Ash."_

_I went back into my room feeling heavy but managed to finish filling my bag while my mind whirred. I wasn't sure if it was Kyla or some other tiny voice in my head, but it was trying to stop me._

_The problem was that I knew from the very beginning that running was inevitable. I just hadn't dared to hope that it would be for such a good reason. Spencer was a better reason than most to do anything, let alone run._

_But what if she couldn't cut ties like I could? What if she said no? What if she let her family win?_

_No, she loved me. She'd told me and she'd shown me more times than I could count. I shoved that voice aside and finished packing, leaving the bag by the window with my guitar._

_I peeked through the blinds and a smile came to my face when I saw Aiden's SUV pull up to the curb. I went to the desk and grabbed my meager savings from the jar in the bottom drawer, and on impulse stopped to scribble two notes. _

_Christine deserved an explanation at least..._

_With a sigh, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I left one note on the bed, sighing as I looked around me. It was always just temporary I had to remind myself. I set my cell phone next to the note and turned away to open the window. Aiden had already quietly set up the ladder. _

_I held my bag out of the window and looked down at him before releasing it. He deftly caught it and set it down while I climbed out of the window. I grabbed Al from inside and very carefully, turned to lower him to Aiden. _

_He pulled case down and set it next to my bag, and with a sense of finality, I looked inside one last time before shutting my window and backing down the ladder._

_Aiden was waiting for me with a smile._

_"Hey," I whispered with a nervous one of my own._

_He handed me the keys to his Xterra. "I'll get the ladder."_

_I nodded, pocketed the keys, and picked up my stuff to go load it in the car. Once done, we quietly made our way to Spencer's window._

_I rummaged around in her bushes for a few small stones while Aiden got the ladder in position. The first one nearly hit the window but I was a terrible shot. All of them pinged loudly off of the siding making me cringe and check the area with paranoia._

_Aiden gave me a smug look as he took the remaining few stones from my hand and began to easily tick the window with them._

_"And this is why it's normally a guy beneath the window."_

_I glowered at him. "You mean it's normally guys who are creepy stalkers." _

_He chuckled, drawing his arm back to throw another, but then a light came on. _

_I grinned from ear to ear and pulled the note from my pocket, unfolding it quickly and bouncing with anticipation._

_Before long the window opened and Spencer's weary, confused face appeared. I beamed a grin at her and wiggled the sign, hoping that she could read it in the meager light._

_She could and she just shook her head, a smile reaching her eyes._

_"Run away with you," she whispered and I nodded. _

_She seemed to think about it for a moment, turning to look into her room as if it held an answer._

_Finally she looked back at me. Her face was sad, but determined. "Give me a minute."_

_I knew that she'd come with me and I hadn't been wrong. _

_I started to pace, trying to consider where we'd be going. But maybe that was the point: there was no destination, just open road and freedom from a really bad situation._

_"Calm down, Ash."_

_I glanced at Aiden with annoyance and he chuckled. I was just about to threaten him with bodily harm when Spencer finally reappeared in the window. Aiden caught her bag and she backed down the ladder where I caught her, pulling her close and breathing her in. _

_She smelled of shampoo and jasmine and sleep. Her hair was still a little wet and she clung to me as if her very life depended on it._

_Aiden cleared his throat and she finally pulled back. _

_"Hey," she said sweetly._

_"Hey," I replied, so relieved to just be looking at her._

_"If you're really going to do this, you need to get a move on," Aiden cut in again._

_I felt Spencer's hand link with mine and we made quick work of loading the car and getting the hell away from that place. _

_It was a quiet ride to Aiden's house but Spencer never released me. And that was okay. I knew how to be quiet in the storm. Life had prepared me for it. _

_We left the car running as Aiden got out and unloaded the ladder before approaching the driver's side window._

_"There are some blankets and stuff in the back. Do you need some money?"_

_God, he really was a giant softy if you could get past the utter guyness._

_"I've got about a hundred," Spencer pitched in._

_"Same," I said._

_"That won't get you guys far," Aiden replied reaching for his wallet and pulling out what bills were inside._

_"Here," he said, passing the money through the window. "Be safe and call me when you can, okay?"_

_I reached through the window and squeezed his neck as best I could. "Thank you, Aiden."_

_"What are friends for," he shrugged, pulling away._

_He smiled and patted the frame of his car. "Just be good to this old girl."_

_"We will," I promised. _

_"Okay," he pushed away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."_

_His grin turned lascivious and I rolled my eyes before putting the shifter in gear and looking to Spencer. _

_"You ready?"_

_She nodded and we pulled away, heading towards the freeway with no direction in mind. Spencer rested her head against the window and I could tell that she was too exhausted to talk. Even if she weren't, no words seemed appropriate. _

_What could I say? 'Are you okay' just seemed stupid. Of course she wasn't okay. Her mom was a raving psycho._

_I felt responsible somehow, like I'd caused all of this trauma. I loved her. Why couldn't her mom just understand that? And even if it wasn't me, it would have been some other girl eventually, right? _

_There's no escaping who you are, and when who you are is Spencer, why would you want to?_

_I drove on until the sun came up, content to just be near Spencer's sleeping form. I didn't want to be separated from her ever again, and if we played this right, I wouldn't have to be._

_She sighed and began to stir, finally turning towards me. _

_"Good morning, beautiful."_

_She scoffed and squeezed my hand. "I must look like Courtney Love after an all-night bender."_

_I laughed, full and genuine, and just shook my head. Her hair was in the most disarray that I'd ever seen it, but that's the nature of sleeping on wet hair. Her eyes were puffy and red and her cheeks still flushed with sleep, but she was a goddess in my eyes._

_"Have you been driving all night?"_

_I nodded and then yawned. "Thanks for reminding me."_

_It was quiet for a few moments._

_"What are we going to do, Ash?"_

_Her voice was small and I was so tired of hearing her like that. Spencer wasn't small, she was larger than life. And life was never going to shrink her. I wouldn't let that happen._

_"Well," I started. "First, we're going to stop and get some food and use a bathroom."_

_She shook her head. "You know what I mean."_

_I sighed. I had no idea. "Spence, if she won't accept you, there's nothing anyone can do about it."_

_She lowered her head until her hair fell forward and created a wall of honey-blonde to obscure her face, but I could tell that she was crying. _

_Fuck..._

_"I'm sorry, Spence..."_

_That was so insensitive of me. I squeezed her hand and took the next exit, pulling into a Flying J. Once the car was parked, I undid my seat belt and she immediately slumped over the console and into my arms._

_She cried harder and I just held her, trying to keep the shaking sobs contained. _

_"Spence, I accept you and I love you. I know it doesn't mean much, but..."_

_"It means everything," she choked out._

_She gripped me harder and poured all of her pain out, and I prayed that her mom would wind up in a colorblind eternity trying to solve a rubik's cube for hurting Spencer so badly._

_It took a while, but she finally calmed down, and we ventured inside to use the restroom. This place was kind of neat. It was a real truck stop, meaning that they even had showers. We decided to go ahead and use them and stocked up on some food and water._

_No one seemed to pay attention to us. I guessed that we looked old enough and our families were probably still unaware that we'd split. Once we were done, we went back out to the car and gassed it up while checking what supplies we had. _

_Aiden had left us a couple of sleeping bags and pillows, a zippo, and a can of mace - why the hell did he have mace?_

_With added our convenience store goodies, and loaded back in, deciding to just keep driving south since the further that we went the warmer that it became. This time Spencer drove so that I could clock some shut eye. It was a restless sleep, but when I awoke, I felt a little better and the scenery had changed._

_The landscape had become windier, the hills steeper, and the woods thicker. There was a large lake that cut through the undergrowth and a glance at the clock revealed that it had been about seven hours. _

_"Spence, why don't we pull over somewhere by the lake and stretch our legs?"_

_"That sounds good," she replied with a sigh._

_The tiredness rolled off of her in waves and I took her hand, kissing the knuckles gently before pulling it to rest in my lap._

_Spencer found a turn off by the water and pulled onto it. I glanced around us. I had no idea where we were, and it was obviously remote, but I thought that it would be best to be cautious._

_I noticed an outcropping of rocks down the shoreline and pointed to them. _

_"We should pull the car over there so that it can't be seen from the road."_

_She nodded and carefully maneuvered the SUV on the rocks until we were obscured. She put the car in park but didn't move. She just stared forward dazedly, her hands gripping the wheel. _

_I got out of the car and stretched, working the kinks out of my spine and letting some feeling return to my legs before coming around to Spencer and opening her door. She took my hand and stepped out, closing her eyes and breathing deeply._

_She tucked her hands in her hoodie pockets and looked out at the gently bobbing waters of the lake. _

_"This is really beautiful," she whispered quietly._

_She was really beautiful. I stepped forward to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before asking that lame question. _

_"Are you okay?"_

_She met my eyes, a curious expression on her face. "We're not crazy, right?"_

_Well, I wasn't, but Spencer..._

_She knew what I was thinking if the poke to my ribs was any indication. "Come on, Ash, I'm serious." She grew indignant. "I mean, we just can't let my mom keep us apart. It's not right."_

_Now this was the Spencer that I knew and adored, unwilling to roll over and just accept what someone else dictated._

_"No, it's not right," I replied with conviction._

_I decided to push a little bit while she was perked up. "But, we do have to go back and face her sooner or later."_

_"I vote later," she almost pouted._

_"Alright..." I laughed and took her hand to lead her down to the water's edge. _

_"So," I continued. "Where do you want to go?"_

_She bent and picked up a flat rock, swiping the grit from its surface before chucking it like a frisbee at the water. I watched with fascination as it hit the surface and skipped several times before sinking._

_She turned to me with the first genuine smile that I'd seen in what felt like forever and said, "You know what?" She chucked another stone and threw her hands up in the air. "We can go anywhere! Whoo!"_

_I chuckled. "I love anywhere."_

_She shouted at the sky and I joined her, laughing and releasing all of the melancholy and anger out into the universe._

_We were both slightly breathless when we finished and I noticed how the setting sun made her glow yellow in its dying light. She looked so beautiful and free and untamed that my heart swelled._

_I had the impulse to kiss her and so I did, pulling her in solidly, letting all of my love for her leave us both breathless. _

_She pulled back and rested her forehead to mine. "Wow," she breathed._

_"I'd go anywhere with you, Spence."_

_For a moment she looked like she might cry, but then her eyes darkened and her breathing hitched, and I realized that I'd said something right because she leaned in and kissed me just as solidly._

_Before I knew it she was backing me towards the car, our hands and mouths more urgent as they tried to find purchase. But no amount of touch was enough. My need for her just continued to grow and she met it, kiss for kiss and touch for touch._

_I was pressed hard against the cold of the car, Spencer's leg pinning me against it and holding me up when she pulled away._

_"I want you, Ash," she said simply._

_And I wanted her too, more than anything, more than life. She made it all worthwhile, and she didn't even know it. The past that I'd survived, I'd survive it again if it meant finding her._

_"I'm yours, Spencer," I replied just as simply._

_The need didn't dissipate at all, but it seemed to smolder and simmer, giving us the ability to slow down and move with purpose and intent. It was time. There was absolutely no reason to stop. And I wouldn't, not this time._

_She opened the hatch and we both crawled inside. With shy glances and not so unintentional touches, we each took on a job. I quickly lowered the back seats and rearranged to make room and she unfurled the sleeping bags, zipping them together and smoothing them out._

_I pulled the door shut and we faced each other on our knees. Her eyes were increasingly deep and I could see the satisfied longing in them as she quietly took off her hoodie._

_I removed my jacket._

_She pulled her tee shirt up and over her head and I mirrored her action. _

_She reached her hand out and delicately traced a finger along my bra line. and I had no choice but to close my eyes at the intimacy of her gaze and touch._

_"Look at me," she demanded._

_And I did. I looked and I watched as her bra was removed and she was exposed to me. Her skin was perfect and polished, her full breasts tight against the chill now permeating in from the darkened lake line._

_The way she was offering herself to me sent arousal flooding through my system. I scooted closer, holding her eyes as I cupped her face, my thumb playing over a full lip. She pulled the tip of it into her mouth and I groaned low in my throat at how warm and wet and promising it was._

_I dropped my hand down to her throat before leaning in to take her mouth in mine again. These kisses were open and almost sloppy, but I decided that they were my favorite kind. When I finally ran my hand over her breasts, teasing them, loving them, she was forced to release the kiss. _

_Her breathes were harsh and rasping, small whimpers mingling in them and shooting straight to my core. She grew bold and forceful, pulling roughly on my bra to remove it and track her mouth down my neck, across my collarbone, and then finally taking me into her mouth._

_I marveled at the sensation, how it could happen here and I'd feel it there. It was like everything that she did, no matter where she did, all sucked together into my lower abdomen to hum and focus in on this one point of aching nerves._

_I felt light-headed, almost numb with flushed passion when I felt her fingers snake into the rim of my jeans and pop the fly. _

_Almost frantically I was on my back and lewdly raising my hips so that I could be liberated of not just the remainder of my clothes but the pain and shame that this world had wrought. _

_There could be none of that here with her. It had no place. It had been wiped away with a skillful stroke of her tongue and steady thump of her heart._

_I loved her and she loved me. How could her mother not understand that?_

_It didn't matter. She was nowhere to be found. This was my place with Spencer, entwined and right and achingly beautiful. _

_She was mine and I was hers and no one could stand between us._

_She was hovering above me now, her blonde hair shutting us in, her dark eyes shining with gratification as she moved her hand slowly down my throat, between my breasts, and across my fluttering stomach to finally touched me in the most intimate of ways._

_It took everything that I had to grab her wrist and say, "Wait..."_

_She stilled and gazed down at me and I ran my hands down her sides to her jeans in silent plea. I needed her to be with me as much as I needed to be with her._

_She braced her hands on either side of my face and I lifted and parted my legs so that she could move in closer. She lowered her head and watched, groaning at how open I was with her, how free I was with her._

_She could see everything and despite all of my vulnerability, I'd never felt more safe._

_I hooked her underwear and pulled all that remained down over her hips to her mid thighs, my eyes trained on the patch of blonde curls that were sticky with need._

_I'd done that to her. It was her gift to me and I couldn't get the last of her clothes off of her fast enough. She helped and met my eyes when she was finally naked, finally lowering herself on top of me for full skin on skin contact._

_I was so lost at this point, wrapping my legs and arms around her. I'd never experienced something so incredible, so warm, so... just everything._

_She encompassed satisfaction, but I suddenly realized that I'd never be satisfied. There wasn't enough of her to touch or feel or get lost in. I'd always want more. I'd always come back for more._

_Her hand found me again and this time, I found her too, sliding through those curls and into the heat beyond._

_She bucked against me, her forehead finding my neck, and I closed my eyes against the eroticism of it. Being touched so intimately, touching her so intimately. The smoldering feeling in my stomach started to burn out of control and sear through every nerve in my body._

_I didn't think that it could get any more... just, more, but then she spoke... or whimpered or begged. _

_"Ash..." That breathless rasp made my heels dig into the blanket. "Take all of me."_

_I knew what she meant and rolled us to our sides where we could face each other. Her eyes were shut and I kissed her tenderly as I pushed inside gently, hesitantly. There was a slight resistance but I forced past it quickly, watching with rapt fascination as her brows furrowed. _

_I waited, lingered, allowing her to adjust before moving again. The frown dissipated and her unfocused eyes fluttered open to meet mine. Her hips began to meet me and the sound of her mewling breathes escalating made me almost jealous. _

_I wanted to feel her this way, to experience her this way. I wanted her inside of me too._

_As if she knew what I needed she pushed lower, hesitating and teasing and waiting for me to give myself to her. _

_"Please...," I breathed._

_There was a twinge of discomfort that rapidly faded as all of those feelings intensified ten-fold. Whatever this was, it was coming fast. I rested my head to her breast and everything seemed to shake and quiver and fold in on itself as we rocked and writhed._

_I felt her break open and her passion flood out as her body went still, the warmth of her around my hand growing tighter and tighter until it began to spasm. She cried out and I followed her, imploding against her, in her, and before her as we both stilled in each other's arms._

_Time had no meaning here. The darkness outside had no dominion over the light held in my heart. I felt new, reborn, insatiably satisfied, and utterly owned._

_And I was._

_I was hers._


	7. Chapter 7 - The Golden Years, Part 5

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Nude as the news - I'm digging the name. :D Thank you. I appreciate the follow and fave as well as your kind words.**

**Lane Leo - Aww, that gave me a genuine warm fuzzy. I hope that you continue to enjoy it.**

**Guest #1 - You just liked all the naked frolicking. :P Thank you. :D**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - The Golden Years, Part 5**

"Why hasn't Carmen met Paula?"

I can't help but rub in a little. I mean, two years without meeting the rents? It can't be that serious...

Spencer's still a little frustrated that I've figured it out. I can tell by her tone and the fact that she deflects.

"Because I don't talk to them anymore."

"You mean not often...?"

I'm pushing it, I know, but there's really no reason to try and color inside the lines this late in the game.

"I mean at all," she says nonchalantly. "If they can't accept me and Carmen, then I refuse to put either of us through that bullshit."

Wow... I didn't see this coming. I know that Mrs. C's a right bitch, but there's also Mr. C to consider. He doesn't deserve to lose his daughter because he's married to the beast.

Besides, Spencer loves her family. Family is something that's so... _fundamental_ to her.

Has four years really made her this jaded?

"Is Carmen okay with that?

I just didn't get it at all. Spencer would never give up, especially on her family. That's just not who she is.

"It was her idea."

What!?

"But they're your family, Spence. No one should make you choose between them..."

I hadn't meant to say it, or at least not quite so accusingly towards Carmen, but I did, and now I've really pissed her off.

"Carmen is good to me and I'm not going to put her through that. She doesn't want to meet them anymore than I want to do that to her. She suggested that we just stay away, and I agreed."

I'm utterly flabbergasted.

How could the sea-witch try to cut her off from her family? It's not like they're the Manson's. They love Spencer, even if some of them are prejudiced. But more than that, Spencer needs her family. How could anyone claim to love her and try to do that to her?

I can't even believe this...

"Spencer, did you do that for you or for Carmen, because that's just not like you."

The tears are back and I realize that I may have just sunk the last nail in my coffin. I just can't stand to see her so... caged, maybe even controlled.

"That's between me and Carmen. Besides, you left your family without a word. You don't have any right to judge either of us."

I feel my hackles rise. She has no idea why I left. Sure, I could have done it better, been more forthcoming, but why hurt everyone like that?

"I think you should just go," she says in frustration. "It was foolish of me to think that..."

She doesn't finish, she just shakes her head and stands, ready to escort me out. But I haven't said what I need to say, what I can't find the words to explain.

I grab her arm as she tries to shove past me and pull her to a stop.

"Let go of me," she orders. "You don't have the right to touch me."

I let go, but this isn't over. "I'm not leaving until I say what I need to say, Spencer."

She throws her hands up. "Then say it already!"

I swallow my ire harshly and gesture to her chair. She huffs a little before relenting and retaking her seat, and I do the same.

This time, she's all business. Her shoulders are straight, her spine is rigid, and her arms are crossed.

"Well...," she says impatiently.

I exhale and try to find a starting place.

"Do you remember prom?"

* * *

_Do you remember all that talk about rites of passage? Well, I was about to have one, and while I'd have never admitted it to Spencer, I was actually kind of excited about this one._

_Prom: pretty dresses, corsages, romance, excruciatingly painful shoes that were so worth it anyway, and lots and lots of after party sex. _

_What wasn't to look forward to?_

_Only one thing: Paula Carlin._

_I was nervous as Christine, Kyla, and I approached Spencer's house. I didn't want to go anywhere near that door, but Mr. C had insisted that we get all be present for the traditional pictures._

_He'd better get copies, because Mrs. C would probably burn some of them later._

_I mean, she'd calmed down since we'd been found out on the road. I still couldn't believe that a flat tire was all that it had taken to stop us. But in the middle of nowhere, young, and stranded, well..._

_Honestly, I think that Spencer had just been homesick. She'd needed her family, so at the first sign of trouble, she'd called her dad and that had been it. But that had been okay, because I understood that about her. _

_And, Mrs. C had just been so happy to get Spencer back, that she'd managed to stop trying to change Spencer, at least overtly. She sort of just barely tolerated me now and got in jibes on Spencer when she could. _

_I was no longer the favored and trusted friend, the sister that her daughter never had. I was something stepped in to be scraped off._

_And while her opinion didn't matter to me at all, I still didn't want to deal with it, not tonight._

_Tonight was to be my night with Spencer fulfilling one of her girly, childhood fantasies. I had to keep reminding myself of that. _

_That's what I was doing here. I was here for Spencer, so I could put up with Mrs. C for a little bit._

_We stepped up to the door and Christine hit the doorbell before looking over at me with a dour expression. I laughed. She didn't like Mrs. C any more than I did at this point. _

_I'd come to find out that Mrs. C had called her and informed her of the atrocity that was my love for Spencer. Well, Christine hadn't cared and that hadn't gone over well with Mrs. C. Long story short, they'd argued, Christine had ripped her a new one, and now she was on Mrs. C's ever widening bigot hit list._

_I sort of loved that about Christine. I mean, she'd still grounded me for running away, but she'd not only understood, she'd stuck up for me. I really did luck out with her._

_The door was answered by Glen, who just grunted and left it open. I rolled my eyes and we both went inside. Spencer wasn't down here yet so I just watched as Glen and Madison posed for Mrs. C's camera finger. _

_I was a little floored to see that he was wearing a skirt and high socks. I mean, he was upset by the fact that Spencer was gay? Whatever. He apparently took after his mother more than I'd initially thought._

_Ultimately, he didn't care that Spencer was gay or hurting, or that her soul was in danger of hell fire. He just didn't want it to affect his social standing, which was laughable. He'd already graduated; he didn't have a job, and he was dating a high school senior._

_He was a loser..._

_He was an ass..._

_Nothing new there._

_"Ashley," Mr. C called out brightly as he strode over to give me a bruising hug. _

_He stepped back and held me at arms-length, whistling low as he smiled. _

_"You look ravishing," he grinned out rakishly._

_"Thank you," I smiled shyly._

_"And you," he crouched down to Kyla. "You're looking very grown up."_

_She beamed a smile at him and I sighed. Kyla was pissed at me. She hadn't said a word since I'd been home._

_Mr. C stood and touched Christine's arm. "I'm so glad that you came."_

_Christine just nodded politely. Mr. C had apologized to her for his wife's behavior, but she hadn't held it against him. She was a woman of few words and she didn't hold a grudge. I decided that I liked that about her as well._

_There was another knock at the door and Mr. C excused himself to answer it. The three of us moved out of the way as Chelsea, Aiden, and his date Sasha were admitted. _

_I'd only met Sasha once before. She was the same skank who'd 'accidently' blabbed her mouth to wrong people and gotten us all in trouble for Spencer's surprise party several months ago. _

_And I could believe that it was an accident. She was just that stupid. Her eyes were vacant, devoid of all intelligence, and she liked to use and upward inflection on all of her sentences, as if everything was a question._

_I almost couldn't see what Aiden saw in her, but then he was Aiden. She was hot and easy. That was it, pure and simple._

_Clay collected Chelsea and they posed in front of Mrs. C's camera, but my attention was diverted to the stairs as Spencer came gliding down like a goddess descending from on high._

_Her hair was pinned at the base of her head, accentuating the long lines of her neck. Her shoulders were bare but for two very lucky, very thin straps that scooped to reveal a tantalizing amount of cleavage. The satiny blue of her dress whispered across her slender ankles where it split, revealing legs that seemed to go on forever._

_I gulped. _

_Was it hot in here?_

_If I'd had a collar, I would have tugged at it._

_I wasn't sure if we'd make it to the hotel room and I was entirely okay with that._

_She grinned shyly as she approached and I met her sparkling eyes, only further accentuated by the color of her dress and the floating tear drop at the hollow of her throat._

_"Wow...," was all that I could say._

_She took my one of my hands in hers and seemed to drink me in with her eyes._

_"I'll say...," she replied._

_Christine cleared her throat and I snapped out of it, fumbling with the corsage as I attempted to fit it over her wrist. _

_Spencer giggled, and easily slid a white carnation on my wrist before leaving a tender kiss on my knuckles. _

_Twining her hand in mine, we faced the group to take pictures. Mrs. C was nowhere to be seen and I breathed a sigh of relief._

_"Alright, all together now."_

_Mr. C waved enthusiastically to get us all grouped together before lifting the camera to his smiling face._

_"Okay, on the count of three, everyone say cheese."_

_I slid my hand to the small of Spencer's back._

_"1."_

_Spencer's arm found my shoulders and she pressed in tight._

_"2."_

_I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I was quite literally stunned. She was smiling shyly and biting her bottom lip, and I felt jealous. That was my job..._

_"3."_

_I leaned in and kissed her. It was chaste and warm and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you close your eyes and melt._

_"CHEESE!"_

_I registered the flash of the camera and broke away a little dazed. Mr. C chuckled, Glen looked furious, Kyla was grossed out, and the rest of the group looked awkward._

_Spencer grabbed my face and smooshed my cheeks together, and to a chorus of snickers and giggles, another flash nearly blinded me._

_I was indignant, but it didn't last long. Next thing I knew Spencer was hanging from my neck and kicking her leg in the air for another picture. _

_I couldn't help but laugh, but I'd had enough humiliation for the night._

_"Okay, okay," I said, disentangling myself from her and pulling away from the group._

_She beamed at me, grabbing my hand and we all filed out through the door, Mr. C calling out for us to be safe as we went._

_Aiden held the door to the stretch Humvee open, and we all found an incredibly comfortable spot to couple up for the ride._

_Of course, almost immediately, the sun roof was opened and Glen was giving us all a decent view of London and France as he stood up and hung his head out of it like a dumb lolling dog._

_"Glen, sit down," Madison chastised, but of course he didn't listen._

_Aiden karate chopped him in the back of his knees and crumbled him to his ass, and we all laughed at him._

_He pulled himself back up into the seat next to Madison with a huge grin on his face. His hair was crazily windswept and I found that I couldn't face forward because most guys aren't used to wearing skirts._

_Speaking of which... "What's with the skirt, Glen?"_

_He glared at me. "It's a kilt, not a skirt."_

_Aiden snickered. "It looks like a skirt."_

_I beamed at him._

_"Well, it's not. And if you were cultured, you'd know that."_

_"Yeah, because you're so sophisticated, Glen," Spencer tried._

_Glen turned up his nose at her. "What's the matter, Spencer? I thought skirts were your thing." _

_And that pissed me off. It was one thing to be an asshole to me, but Spencer didn't deserve that._

_"Glen, come on, man," Clay jumped in._

_Spencer, however, played it off with a shrug of her shoulders. "I do enjoy a nice skirt. Easy access."_

_With that, she placed her hand on my thigh and snuggled in close to give me a steamy kiss that left me blushing._

_"Damn, dude," Aiden said. "She just owned your ass."_

_Glen's head swiveled. "Dude, what's wrong with you?" He gestured to us. "That's fucking disgusting." _

_"Glen, please just stop," Clay tried again._

_"That's bullshit, and you know it, Glen," Aiden responded. "I know for a fact that you look at lesbian porn."_

_The air sucked out of the cabin as it someone had hooked up a vacuum to the sun roof. No one said a word as they processed this entirely too much information. I felt my stomach churn at the thought of Glen liking porn because, well, it meant that he wasn't a eunuch._

_That was not a world that I wanted to be a part of._

_"Wait a minute," Sasha interrupted the silence. "Are you two, like, together?"_

_Everyone just stared at her dumbfounded. _

_I mean seriously..._

_"How does that... like, work," she asked with genuine interest._

_Spencer immediately placed her hand over my mouth to keep me from further confusing her with small, monosyllabic words._

_I considered drawing her a few pictures since I couldn't speak, but I didn't have any crayons..._

_From there, the car ride was continued in silence. Madison had her arms crossed over her chest and wouldn't even look at Glen. Glen was slumped in his seat and brooding. Aiden and Sasha were making out. Chelsea and Clay just stayed quiet; they were the smart ones. _

_Spencer and I just leaned our heads together and fought over who loved each other the most._

_We were so pathetic._

_When we arrived at the High School, we filed out of the limo and immediately split off. I was thankful. Our group could be entirely too exhausting._

_We posed for a few photos under the Blue Devil branded archway and then took to the dance floor. Spencer was such a spaz with upbeat tempos and I could laugh for hours just watching her obliviously do her thing._

_The slow songs were almost my favorite. I mean, who doesn't like pulling in tight and just swaying with a hottie?_

_But my favorites were the sexier beats. Spencer had absolutely no rhythm, but she could definitely grind, and man, was she ever. She had this way of kissing my neck and teasingly drawing close to my mouth without actually giving me any satisfaction. _

_And that sent my pulse racing._

_Everything about her sent my pulse racing._

_I felt unreasonably hot._

_And then she had the best idea ever..._

_"Ash...," she breathed in my ear. "I need to use the bathroom."_

_She leaned back, wrapping her arms around my neck and playing suggestively with the hair at the nape of my neck. "You want to come with me?"_

_I didn't have to think about it and I couldn't really make words, so I just took her hand and started to drag her._

_She giggled when I tripped and stumbled a little. I was a little light-headed, but I wasn't deterred. Once inside, I pulled her into the handicapped stall, slid the lock in place, and found myself pressed against the door._

_I took her face in my hands and pulled in for a searing kiss that left me breathing heavily. My head was swimming and I could barely stay on my feet, but Spencer positioned her leg between mine and continued her assault, moving down my neck._

_"God, you're so hot, Ash."_

_"So are you," I said, feeling a flush and a flutter in my stomach._

_"No, Ash, I mean-"_

_I pulled her up and attacked her mouth again, the very blood in my veins boiling._

_She broke the contact and put her hand to my forehead. _

_"No, I mean it. You feel hot."_

_Her hand felt cool against my overheated skin and I closed my eyes, leaning hard against the door. My head was still swimming and I thought that I might collapse._

_"Ash, I think you're sick..."_

_Her voice sounded like it was under water and my stomach roiled. I lurched on instinct for the toilet and heaved violently into its porcelain depths._

_Somewhere in my mind I registered the hair being tenderly held away from my face and the gentle stroking circles on my back, but I was nearing the point of passing out._

_"Dad," I heard somewhere in the fog. "I need your help. Ashley's really sick."_


	8. Chapter 8 - Nothing Gold Can Stay, Part1

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**I'm glad you guys are still enjoying the story. Just bear with me through the next few parts. I promise that it'll be worth it.**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Nothing Gold Can Stay, Part 1**

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Yes, I remember prom. Now is that all?"

I close my eyes and beg shamelessly. "Spencer, please just try to work with me here. This isn't easy for me either."

She softens a little. "Ashley, it's late, I'm tired, I have to work in the morning, Carmen's pissed at me, and as much as I've enjoyed this little stroll down memory lane, I just want to get this over with."

"Okay," I say. "I'll try to get to point."

"Thank you," she sighs, leaning back in her chair. "So what about prom?"

Fuck... this is getting hard.

"Um, we went to prom and I got sick."

She nods. "You got the flu and were down for a good two weeks."

"Right," I say.

"And then you broke up with me," she says sharply and I nod again.

"At graduation, no less," she adds and I nod again.

"And then you just disappeared," she continues and I feel a pattern coming on.

* * *

_There were so many things in my life that I was grateful for. I was eighteen, I had an amazing girlfriend, I was loved and happy, I had a family; I was even valedictorian._

_I had been given this amazing opportunity to turn my life around after such a terrible start..._

_I had more than most people could ever dream of and I should have been praising the heavens with gratitude._

_I really wanted to. I had been trying to focus on that, to hold onto it. I wanted to remember everything about my life in perfect detail and know that it had been worth living._

_But it was hard. I was facing some tremendous changes - life-altering changes - and I was so scared._

_Do you have any idea what it's like to live with a secret that would destroy everything that you love?_

_It was eating me alive, both figuratively and literally. I felt so tired, a bone deep weariness pervading my very soul. I couldn't breathe and I felt nauseous. It was depressing, and like some cruel joke, it never ended. _

_But I had to pretend, play it off, because I couldn't and wouldn't hurt the people that I love like that._

_"Five minutes, Ashley," Principal Hemsworth informed me with a smile._

_I was about to go out on stage and graduate. I was about to give a speech about hope and gratitude and pressing forward in life, but despite all of my attempts at believing in those things, I just couldn't feel it._

_I just wanted to yack._

_I glanced down at the index cards in my hands and made sure that they were in the right order. So long as I stuck to the words written on them, I didn't have to believe in anything._

_All I had to do was say the words, go through the motions, and then... it would all be over._

_All of it._

_That was the only thing that I could cling to with any kind of hope: it would all be over soon._

_But maybe that was the problem. I didn't want it to be, not really._

_"Okay, Ashley, they're going to announce you any time. You ready?"_

_I glanced up at Hemsworth and nodded, swallowing the bile trying to rise up my throat._

_He smiled at me and chucked me on the shoulder. "Don't be nervous. I'm sure you'll do fine."_

_Just then, my name was called, and he shoved me not-so gently-towards the steps at the side of the stage._

_I started to climb them and heard some shouting out in the crowd. Spencer's voice was booming in the auditorium, even over all of the other noise, and I couldn't help but smile._

_She was so very proud of me._

_That made what was going to happen all the worse._

_I approached the podium and everyone settled down. It grew so oppressively quiet that my stomach started to lurch, and for a moment I thought that this might end up like sea world: the first five rows will get wet._

_"I LOVE YOU, ASHLEY," Spencer shouted and everyone chuckled, myself included._

_It helped to loosen the thorns choking my soul. _

_I leaned into the mic. "Um, thank you. I love you too, Spence."_

_There were a few more chuckles before everyone calmed again. The lights were sort of blinding as I looked out at the small sea of wild-eyed blue devils. _

_People expected things of me, things that I couldn't deliver._

_"I uh...," I glanced down at my cards and began to mumble. "Friends, family, and fellow graduates, it's an honor and a privilege to be here today..."_

_And, God, what had I been thinking? This speech sucked..._

_I glanced out at the expectant faces, searching until I spotted the only one that mattered, the one beaming at me with love and adoration, the one that I would crush._

_The cards, the other people, they were instantly forgotten and the world narrowed in. I didn't know how I was going to get through this. I loved her so much, more than anything, and I was going to murder that love._

_I felt tears sting my eyes and began to just choke on my words._

_"I know that you're all expecting me to come up here and prove my sparkling intellect with complicated words and inspirational platitudes. But to be honest, all of that's just a lie, and, it's boring."_

_There were a few uneasy laughs._

_"The truth is that I don't have any grand advice that I can give you to help you succeed in your goals. I can't tell you how to face the future because the future has become elusive to me recently."_

_My hands were shaking, but I focused on Spencer, hoping that maybe she'd see what I couldn't tell her despite all of my secrecy._

_"All I can really tell you is that life is always hard and never fair. No matter how hard you work, you're going to stumble and fall and fail. And it's going to hurt."_

_Someone cleared their throat and I closed my eyes against the agony of this situation, an agony not one person in this room could understand._

_"God, it's going to hurt."_

_I was going to hyperventilate. I didn't know what I was saying. It was just pouring out of me and saturating this happy affair with grief. But there was a point in here somewhere, wasn't there?_

_"But if you can say that you've learned what it means to fight - to get your hands dirty and your nose bloodied - if you can say that you know what it means to forgive and to love with your whole heart - if, for even a minute, you can say that you were able to look past your prejudices and give of yourself unconditionally - then you'll know that it was all worthwhile."_

_There wasn't a sound and I could feel my control slipping._

_"Just don't be afraid to really, truly live, to be yourself no matter the consequences. And I promise you that this far too short life will have meant something. It has to..."_

_There was another long pause of further fumbling and the squeal of a mic. "Thank you."_

_One person clapped, and then another, and another until the entire class was on their feet with deafening applause. _

_I was pretty sure that they were just happy that I was done._

_Principal Hemsworth approached me and shook my hand vigorously, and it was everything that I could do not to run from the stage. _

_"Ladies and Gentlemen, the graduating class of 2011."_

_And that was it. It was over, though it was only the beginning. I watched as the blue caps went whirling up into the air, the shouting and clapping nearly deafening. _

_I made my way off the stage, shaking the hands of the staff as I went and slipped off behind the dais to lean against a wall and slide down it._

_All I could do was hug my knees. I didn't want to face what was next. I didn't want to face any of it, but I didn't have a choice. The worst wasn't nearly over yet._

_It wasn't long before I saw Spencer looking for me at the side of the stage and I was forced to collect myself. _

_I had to make this convincing._

_I came out and she nearly bowled me over, hugging me so fiercely that I could barely breathe, but breathing was overrated these days._

_"I'm so proud of you," she whispered before leaning back and planting an excited kiss on my lips._

_I hugged her again, giving myself this one last moment with her before I destroyed everything I'd ever cared about._

_And that was it; that was all that I'd get._

_I pulled back and sucked in a breath, swallowing all of the emotions and forcing myself into a place of cold indifference._

_"Spencer," I started. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"_

_She smiled at me curiously but nodded her head. I led her out of the gym, down the hall, and outside. There was a pavilion on this side of the building and as expected, the area was completely empty._

_We sat side-by-side on the concrete bench beneath the canopy and I steeled myself before turning to face her._

_"What's up," she asked brightly._

_"I thought that it was time for us to talk."_

_God, that was cryptic. _

_Focus, Davies. _

_"Ash, is everything okay? You're kind of scaring me."_

_I smiled reassuringly. "No, I think everything's fine. In fact, I think this is really a good thing."_

_"Okay..."_

_"I've been thinking. You're going to The New York Film Academy and I'll probably be going on tour with my band. We're young and we have our whole lives spread out in front of us."_

_I cleared my throat to choke back the fear and hurt and anger that coursing through me. I hated myself and the universe in this moment._

_There was just nothing left to be grateful for. This was too much to ask of me._

_"Maybe we should, you know, take a break, see the world a little bit."_

_The look on her face started tearing into my guts. It was utter despair, utter grief, and I imagined that this was what my very soul looked like anymore._

_"Are you breaking up with me?"_

_Her voice was small, and for the first time, I'd made it that way. I'd failed her and there was no going back, no matter how much I wanted to._

_My voice sounded hoarse. "I'm not trying to break up with you so much as give you the space and freedom to explore a little bit."_

_"I-I don't want space or freedom. Ash, where is this coming from?"_

_I shrugged, the action feeling rigid. "I think it's a good idea."_

_She seemed to sway a little bit as she turned away from me dazedly. "You don't want to be with me anymore."_

_This time it wasn't a question. It was more like she was telling herself what she'd just heard so that she'd believe it._

_A single tear escaped my eye and I turned away to swipe at it angrily. _

_Fuck, I had to make this fast or I wasn't going to make it at all._

_"I just think, for a while-"_

_She jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just... stop. I get it. We're not together anymore."_

_She wrapped her arms around herself and I had to dig my fingers into my thigh to keep from reaching for her. _

_"Can I ask why," she choked out._

_"I told you, we're young and we need to figure out what we want."_

_She pinned me with her eyes. "And you don't want me."_

_Again, who was she trying to convince?_

_Who was I, for that matter?_

_"No," I said, digging in a little harder. I was sure that I'd drawn blood._

_There were no more words but she still stood there, as if waiting for something. I knew that I was; the earth could open up at my feet and swallow me up any time now._

_But it didn't. No, that would be far too kind. Instead, I was left sitting there, watching her run away from me just as fast as I was running away from her._

_I fell to my knees and dry heaved as the sobs came. I still to this day have no idea how I got home to collect my bag and my guitar, stopping on impulse to grab the green hoodie she'd forgotten on the futon the night before. _

_I still to this day have no idea how I got to the bus station. _

_It was all just a blur of pain and muscle memory._

_I didn't actually come out of my stupor until I found myself stepping off of the bus and standing on Los Angeles soil, more than ready to embrace my fate. _


	9. Chapter 9 - Nothing Gold Can Stay, Part

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**SoNFan - You're very welcome. What good would feedback be if I didn't listen to it? **

**Guest - Oh, I don't know... "I felt her break open and her passion flood out as her body went still, the warmth of her around my hand growing tighter and tighter until it began to spasm. She cried out and I followed her, imploding against her, in her, and before her as we both stilled in each other's arms." This chapter is pretty telling as to her reasons. But the next is probably the big reveal. We shall see. Thanks for not reviewing with a spoiler. :D**

**So glad you guys are enjoying it! Now, give me some real meat to chew on!**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Nothing Gold Can Stay, Part 2**

"And then you showed up at _my_ concert," I almost accuse, though I'm not really sure why.

I just need the cycle of being bitch slapped with my failures to stop. What better way of doing that than to find an accusation of my own? Of course, bringing up the concert is as cheap as it is weak. It's not like she sought me out.

She was just a dumbstruck to see me there as I was her.

Hell, she'd been set up.

We both had.

* * *

_God, I was going to be sick, and it had nothing to do with the last four years of physical and emotional turmoil._

_I was trying to practice scales on my guitar to help bleed off my nerves, but it wasn't helping. I was about to take my first real step into what appeared to be a normal life, a life I had never anticipated._

_But somehow, unexpectedly, here I was, about to meet a crowd of rowdy twenty-somethings all having paid good money for me to deliver._

_How did I even get here?_

_"Ash, this awesome," Kyla squealed, grabbing my arm and bouncing in excitement as the opening act exited the stage._

_My eyes panned to hers and I grimaced._

_Ugh, I was really going to be sick..._

_She rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a baby. You're here, you're loved, and you're a rock star. I know it's really damn hard and everything, but I'm sure you can find a way to cope with success."_

_When did she get to be so sarcastic? It was way too much like me, and I didn't like it at all. Only I got to be me, damn it. _

_I looked her over again, still recovering from the shock of seeing her, let alone seeing her as an adult. She was eighteen now, only just. But the last time that I'd seen her she had barely been a teenager. _

_She'd shown up on my doorstep two months prior, right after her birthday, and pissed beyond belief. At first, she'd hauled off on me, lashing out in ways that were both inventive and slightly frightening, though I'd never admit that to her. _

_Of course, after she'd wrestled my deserter ass into a brand new shape, I'd explained things to her, and she'd only gotten more pissed. From there, it had been silence and angry tears, but somehow she'd found it in herself to forgive me._

_It's not like I'd wanted to leave her or anyone else. _

_I think she really understood that and it helped her to let it go, but something in me knew that she'd never really let me live it down. I had a lot to make up for, but it wasn't supposed to be this way, at all._

_I wasn't supposed to have to deal with awkward meetings or consequences of any kind. And I still didn't want to. _

_But she'd found me, and while she'd had every intention of leaving after she'd given me that large chunk of her scary mind, nothing seemed to be going as planned for anyone._

_She was already here, she was determined not to leave now, and I couldn't very well run away again or kick her out, but that didn't mean that I'd deal with anyone else._

_It had taken every ounce of pathetic pleading I'd had to swear her to silence. I didn't want anyone to know, not Christine, not Aiden, not Clay or Chelsea, not Glen or Madison... and especially not Spencer._

_She'd agreed reluctantly, but I knew that it would never be over. She'd push and push and push until she got what she wanted._

_And what she wanted was a full reunion with my past, a good, old-fashioned, come to Jesus revival with tears and hugs and maybe even a reality television personality narrating._

_Maybe Snooki..._

_But I wouldn't hear of it. I had enough to deal with. Things were still so up in the air, and every minute was just a timer counting down into the unknown. Yes, I had money and yes, my band was becoming successful because of it, but that didn't mean that it was a real life. _

_It was all just biding time. And ultimately, running away would mean nothing if I abandoned my entire reason for running in the first place._

_They just couldn't know._

_And she just didn't understand that. She couldn't. She still thought that I was a complete dumbass in how I'd handled the situation, but some things can't be understood until they're experienced._

_And my reasons for running weren't something that most people ever would, thankfully._

_I did the best that I could with the information that I had. Or, at the very least, I'd tried to make it less terrible than it was for all those involved._

_Kyla's bouncing intensified and the roar of the crowd pulled me out of my thoughts just in time to see my drummer and best friend, Kate, taking a seat at her kit in the middle of the stage._

_Jacinda and Jonica, or more lovingly known as Jac and Jon, pushed past me to go to their posts and I knew that it was time._

_Kyla shoved me a little, screaming over the crowd. "Get your ass out there!"_

_I squinted my eyes at her over my shoulder, wondering how I'd put up with her even as much I couldn't fathom being without her again, and made my way to the mic in the middle front of the stage._

_The noise was deafening, the lights hot and blinding, and I shoved the scooped bangs out of my eyes on reflex. It did no good, but it didn't matter. Once my fingers touched the frets and that first bittersweet, grungy chord rang out loud and ballsy, I was possessed._

_It was just me at my very core, without all of the anger, pain, and regret, and doing what I did best while loving it._

_"WEST HOLLYWOOD," I shouted._

_And like good little lemmings they responded in kind._

_I laughed almost evilly. Here I was a Goddess, a master of my domain, and these my loyal subjects. _

_"YOU WANT SOME FUCKING MUSIC?"_

_Hell yes they did. Who wouldn't? _

_The energy was palpable, arcing from their writhing, bouncing bodies in a sweaty stream of endless movement until it sparked and the first song kicked off. _

_I lost myself in the excitement, in the feel of the smooth wood in my hands, in the bend of every string and dissonant note. The songs continued pouring forth from us like a well-oiled machine as the crowd jumped, and screamed, and used the stage like a spring board for crowd surfing._

_The energy was just crazy and the few security guards were having hard time containing the pit._

_Venues like these, people like these, had been my surrogate family in my time spent running, and this is where I felt most free, as if all of the realities of life and loss didn't exist. _

_I couldn't help but feel empowered and excited as I watched them react to the sounds that my fingers made, as I watched them open their mouths to shout out the lyrics with me._

_By the end of the set I was exhausted but revitalized. There was no high like playing to a receptive crowd, they were more and more receptive with each show if tonight was any indication. _

_This had been our biggest show yet, and I was feeling pretty amazing. Apparently they were too, because when the band and I bid them a goodnight and exited the stage, they weren't ready for the show to end._

_"EN-CORE," they chanted._

_I looked around to locate Kyla backstage, and that's when the club owner came up to us, a worried expression on his face. _

_He yelled to be heard over the booming noise. "The crowd hasn't been this out of control since BRMC came through here! You guys need to play another song, something to mellow them out!"_

_I looked to the band to see that I wasn't the only one at a loss. We didn't do mellow. I mean, I had a few songs that I hadn't played since my days on the street taking tips, but that was all acoustic stuff. Besides, the band hadn't rehearsed any of them._

_"We don't have any other songs," I told him._

_"Then play a cover," he shouted nervously, his hands twisting together and sweat beading at his temples. "I don't care, but do something to calm them down!"_

_I took my electric guitar off and placed it on a nearby stand before peeking out from the side of the stage. Fists were pumping wildly, the chanting hadn't relented in the slightest, bouncers were pushing them back with outstretched arms, and I had no idea what to do._

_I glanced over at Al. He was always with me. He was my security blanket. _

_Fuck... _

_I picked him up and began to fit the wireless receiver from my electric onto him. _

_"Ash, what are you going to play," Kate asked as she began to help me._

_"It's just a stupid song I wrote a long time ago. It's mellow and kind of dark." I turned to venue manager. "I'll do my best."_

_He exhaled heavily and swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. _

_"Thank you," he said desperately._

_Kate and I finished and I walked out onto the stage. The crowd lost it when they saw me and I smiled at them as I clicked one of the pedals beneath the mic. The little light bounced and I watched to make sure Al was tuned to drop D. _

_I clicked open the channels to clean and did a quick test strum while I talked into the mic. "Alright, you guys asked for more..."_

_They went even more nuts and I did my best to calm them by speaking so quietly that they'd have to in order to hear me._

_"Okay, since you guys have been so great tonight, I'm going to a play a song of mine that nobody's ever heard before. I need everyone to really pay attention."_

_It worked. They weren't church mice or anything, but they had at least lowered the volume._

_"It's called Cellar Door."_

_I started to pick out the slightly complicated intro. I mean, I had small hands and this required me to do full extended chords while clamping my thumb down over the dropped E string. But I'd played this song a million times when I first got here, so muscle memory took over._

_Before I knew it, I was picking out the verse and singing. _

_"I guess I should be thankful for given seldom chance, to see what lies in front of me before that time has passed. I'm going through the motions, like swimming in a dream, and all the things that brought me here have led me to this brink."_

_Damn, I forgot how hard it was to belt out that buildup and move into the driving acoustic-punk style of the chorus._

_"And all the paths lead to one cellar door. We're born into this life with nothing to live for. And I look forward to dying young."_

_I let the note ring out before picking back into the verse. The crowd was fairly still and as I scanned the faces, I felt a little better about sharing this song; that is until my eyes landed on a smug Kyla at the front left of the general admission floor._

_Well, not so much Kyla, but the very Spencer looking blonde standing next to her with her mouth agape._

_"Now I'm stuck," I almost missed the opening and the lyric was so true. "With my hands above my head, I'm giving up. And what I do, I do for the sake of her. I took the long way out, out of love. I close my eyes, shed a smile without remorse."_

_God, there was so much remorse. I couldn't move my eyes or even blink. It was like my eyes had been propped open with toothpicks and fixed on her. _

_How could Kyla do this to me, to her...?_

_"Because all the paths lead to one cellar door. We're born into this life with nothing to live for. And I look forward to dying young."_

_The outro slowly grew into an anthem-esque strum as I began to repeat the last few lines of the song. _

_"I look forward to dying young..."_

_Over and over again, those lines poured out, and I felt the words choking in my throat. She was never supposed to be here. She was never supposed to see me again. She was never supposed to hear this song. _

_None of this was ever supposed to be this way._

_None of this was ever supposed to be at all._

_The sadness flowing through speakers did the trick because the energy had been sapped from the mob. Some of them even had glossy eyes, and then like they were mocking me, they picked up on the line and started it with me. _

_"I look forward to dying young."_

_It really did have an anthem feel._

_After a few more measures, I let the song go and nearly ran from the stage, only stopping long enough to say, "Thank you."_

_Jac, and Jon wore teary smiles and gave warm congratulations, and Kate was mainly pissed that I'd never shared that song with them. _

_I practically threw Al in his case, generally ignoring them all._

_I needed to get out of here quick._

_And then I needed to kill Kyla. I knew that she'd push, but after only two months?! _

_I mean, for fuck's sake..._

_"Ashley!"_

_Speak of the devil and he will appear, only he'll be an eighteen-year old girl with big brown eyes, a button nose, and an obvious death wish._

_I glared at her for a moment, but said nothing as I packed up my electric._

_"Ashley," she tried again, this time grabbing my arm._

_I whirled on her, ready to lay her open, but then I noticed that Spencer was just behind her... with someone else._

_Spencer had her arms crossed over her chest as her friend spoke animatedly with her hands. She glanced at me for a moment, her face impassive before dismissing me like so much garbage._

_I shook Kyla loose when Spencer focused back on her partner and tried my very best to evaporate her with my eyes._

_I still couldn't say anything, not here and not now. I needed to just run away..._

_"Ash, let me explain..."_

_I picked up both guitar cases, bent on leaving, but then Spencer left her now obviously seething friend and approached us._

_Oh fuck..._

_Age had treated her well. Tight jeans hugged her hips and legs before disappearing smoothly into her high-heeled, lace up boots. A black tank top trimmed in lace was only barely holding her together, and I figured that one good bend of the waist would send her breasts spilling out of it._

_Her skin was tan and almost glowing with the flush of being down in the crowd, and her hair fell in long waves of golden silk around her shoulders._

_"Ashley," she said, her voice indifferent. "You did well. Congratulations."_

_"Thank you," I said while Kyla stepped back to observe us._

_"You look...," Insanely beautiful? "Good, Spence."_

_God, that was lame. _

_She just smirked at me. "You too."_

_Kyla started to smile a little bit and I glanced over at her. It was a good thing that I had my hands full of guitars or I'd have slapped it from her face._

_"Well," Spencer continued. "I thought it would be rude not to at least say hello. I should probably get going though." She gestured to the brooding brunette behind her. "Good luck, Ashley."_

_And with that she was walking away and all I could do was stare, that is until the brunette broke into my field of sight and not so subtly let me know that I wasn't to look at Spencer._

_She turned to leave, and with one last rueful look at Kyla, I did the same._

_Kyla was right next to me the whole way to my black Humvee, but I ignored her as I loaded it up. _

_"Ash, I didn't tell her anything, I swear..." _

_There was a group of people waiting to meet me, but I couldn't deal with it just now. Besides, Jac and Jon were soaking up the attention._

_"You can't keep hiding away from the people who love you, who miss you...," Kyla continued._

_I was undeterred._

_"Ash," Kate called out as she ran over to me._

_"I'll call you later, Kate."_

_"What's going on," she asked._

_"She's being an ass," Kyla replied and I'd finally had enough of her._

_I slammed the back door to the Humvee and turned to my sister. "You had no right to do that, Kyla!"_

_"I'm your sister! I have every right!"_

_"No, you really don't. You promised me and you knew that I wasn't ready, that I probably never would be! I still don't even know..."_

_Angry tears welled in my eyes and Kate put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged her off to finish. "Do you even realize what you've done, how much this could further hurt Spencer... me?"_

_Kyla was crying now but I didn't care. I couldn't deal with this so I opened the door and stepped up into the driver's seat._

_"Everyone's hurt anyway, Ashley," Kyla said as I closed the door and peeled away._

_Just fuck..._


	10. Chapter 10 - Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Wow, I asked for some meat, and you guys didn't disappoint! I just want to let you know that I realize that this is getting rough, but please hang in there. Just trust me, okay? I've done my research and I know what I'm doing.**

**Nude as the news - Read on here and I think you'll be surprised to find just how close to the truth you were on both counts. Well done, my friend. I hope to have a couple of chapters up today because my posting habits will be slacking here for the next few days.**

**Number09 - Thank you so much for giving me some insight on how the characters come across. That's something that I can struggle with in first person. Do you feel too detached from Spencer because it's so Ashley centric? I want both characters to stand out, and if I'm failing that in any way, I'd appreciate that input. Also, you're spot on with how Ashley, no matter her reason for leaving, is young and foolish and ultimately noble. But keep in mind that Spencer doesn't know anything. She's been kept in the dark. She doesn't even really know Ashley's past outside of it was bad and her dad rescued Ash. Thank you so much for you feedback! I'm glad you found the story, even though it was late, you slacker. :P**

**So glad you guys are enjoying it! Keep the meaty nuggets of insight coming!**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Excuses, Excuses, Excuses**

Man, I really keep pissing Spencer off.

I don't do it on purpose, I swear!

"Don't flatter yourself, Ashley. It was _your _sister who called me and said that she'd be in town to see one of her favorite bands and wanted to meet up. I had _no _idea that you'd be there. I had no idea that you were even in California, or even _alive_ for that matter. And if I had known, I definitely wouldn't have come. So don't make this out like I was looking for you. That couldn't be further from the truth."

Yeah, I knew all of this already.

I said my argument was weak, right?

Right.

"But you," she accused. "You show up at my house in the middle of the night like some stalker. You have a lot of nerve."

Do I? I don't think so. I can't even look at her. I just keep twisting my fingers in my lap.

Her ire seems to dissipate some as she continues. "Look, whatever closure you think you need by coming here tonight, just let it go and move on with your life. I have."

I close my eyes and exhale. She doesn't understand that it's not possible for me to do that.

"You don't owe me an apology or an excuse, and I don't need either. You left." I hear the rustle of the robe as she shrugs carelessly. "There's really nothing more to talk about. So, if you're finished, I think we should call it a night."

I snap my head up. "No."

"Yes," she argues seriously.

"I'm not finished, Spencer."

She's already standing. "Well, I am. I have been for years."

I stand as well. "No, you still don't get it."

"Yeah, I think I really do," she sighs, heading for the door again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

I have to say something, so why can't I just say it, just get it out there? Were Kyla and Kate wrong? Had I been right? Was it really crazy to think that Spencer would care after all that I've put her though, after all of this time?

She's almost to the door and something in me has this need to stop her, if only to just be near her a little while longer, even if that is the case.

"Aplastic Anemia," I blurt out, surprising both of us.

Well, she's stopped moving, so that's something. But there's a really dumb look on her face.

"A plastic knee, whata," she asks.

I slump back onto my chair and stare at the carpet while I recite what the doctor told me just before graduation, the same thing that I read over and over again on a google screen when I got home as I tried to understand why I was going to die.

"Aplastic Anemia - a condition that occurs when your body stops producing enough new blood cells. Usually associated with exposure to drugs and harmful chemicals."

Thanks, mom...

Spencer's not moving and I can't look at her. But it's out there now. Finally...

She walks to the chair right next to mine and sits. "Ashley, what are you talking about?"

I'm getting frustrated with myself and so I take it out on Spencer. "I was sick at prom but it wasn't just the flu, or asthma, or allergies. I mean, how many times did I fall asleep during class like I had narcolepsy? How many times did going up steps make me winded? I was dying Spencer, and I still might."

Her face is unreadable, like so many emotions are processing that she can't get a grip on which one to go with.

"You're dying," she asks tonelessly.

I throw a hand up, my frustration even worse. "I don't know! I should have already, but then some things happened and I'm still here."

"W-wha... what happened?"

I laugh humorlessly. "When, which time?"

"The beginning," her tone is low and serious.

Fuck, it's always square one, isn't it? Life doesn't go backwards, it goes forwards, right? So why am I always reliving the past?

* * *

_God, I was so tired of feeling like shit and going to the doctor. It felt like I'd practically pitched a tent in the waiting room over the last month as they did this test and that test to try and figure out why I was so tired, why my allergies were so bad, why I had issues breathing. But they didn't seem to have any answers._

_The last time that I had been here they had jammed a needle the size of a harpoon in my hip. I was still sore. _

_And yeesh..._

_Needles gave me the heebie jeebies and this one was the mother of them all. I mean, I never had allergies or asthma before..._

_And was that needle really necessary?_

_I sat in the office waiting for the next round of torture like always, but usually I had Christine with me. She was running late today. She was late getting off of work and had to stop at the school to pay for my cap and gown._

_"Ashley Davies," the nurse called._

_I stood and followed her through the door, stopping at the little weigh station to learn that I was still five-foot-four, one hundred and twenty pounds, and running a bit of a temperature._

_She then led me to a little exam room and took my blood pressure. It was a little low, just like always. I mean seriously, they knew all of this already._

_"The doctor will be with you in a moment," she said but I knew that meant another hour, so I slumped in my chair and pulled out my cell phone. _

_Spencer had texted. "Hey, where are you?"_

_I texted back. "At the doctor again."_

_Her reply was immediate. "Aw, my poor baby! Still suffering from allergies?"_

_"Yeah...," I texted back._

_"Well make it quick. I want my cuddles."_

_I smiled. "God, that sounds good. I'm so tired."_

_The doctor knocked softly before entering and I texted Spencer again. "Hey, he's here. Shouldn't be long. Be there as soon as I can. Xoxo"_

_"Hey there, Ashley," Doctor Simmons said with a plastic smile as he situated himself on the low roll out chair in front of the computer next to me._

_"Hey, Doc."_

_"Where's Christine?"_

_"She's running late," I explained. _

_"Ah," he said, nodding a couple of times in contemplation._

_Something about the way that he flipped through my chart nervously and avoided eye contact made my skin crawl. _

_He was quiet, too quiet..._

_"So," I said. "What's up? Is it allergies, asthma, what?"_

_He smiled that plastic smile again. "Oh, I think it's probably best to wait for Christine to get here before we go over the results."_

_I felt a frown coming on. "Why?"_

_"Well, it might be better to explain things just once."_

_That was ominous, and there was that tight-lipped smile again. Or, was it a grimace?_

_His bedside manner sucked. I mean, did I mention the needle?_

_"Doc, I'm eighteen now. She doesn't have to be here."_

_He flipped through my chart as if looking for confirmation and then sighed, closing it and setting it on the countertop with an odd sense of finality._

_"Well," he started. "That bone marrow sample that we took confirmed what I suspected from your lab results. You have a rare condition known as aplastic anemia. What that means is that your body is having a hard time fighting off infections because it's not replacing blood cells like it should."_

_Okay... "So, how do I fix it?"_

_He sighs. "We can do a few things to help: medications and blood transfusions. But the best course of treatment is a bone marrow transplant."_

_Why did this sound so serious? I mean, transfusions, a transplant?_

_"I need surgery?"_

_He nodded. "A transplant, yes, preferably from a donor who's a blood relative."_

_I didn't have any blood relatives except for Kyla, and she was just a kid. Surely she needed her own... stuff. And mom, I hadn't seen her since CPS took us._

_The doctor continued, "But, if we can't get a blood relative, we can still put you on a list...," but I wasn't really able to focus on what he was saying._

_The world was sort of shrinking in on me. _

_Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait..._

_"What happens if I don't get the transplant," I interrupted him._

_"Ashley," he said gently. "You're young and in perfect health. There are a variety treatments available to help and-"_

_"Doc, just spit it out." _

_He was really starting to irritate me. _

_His eyes were kind as he took one of my hands in his own. "I know that this isn't easy, but I want you to understand that we can and will do everything in our power to-"_

_He was doing it again, sidestepping the question. And that's when it hit me._

_"Am I going to... die?"_

_My voice had been unreasonably quiet but it was still enough to stop his rambling. _

_"Without the proper treatment, it's a possibility, yes."_

_And just like that, it was out there. It was out there and I wanted him to take it back._

_I mean, "Why...?"_

_It was a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. "There are several causes, but given your background, I'm convinced that it was exposure to methamphetamine, or more the chemicals used to make it, that triggered the disease."_

_That smell, I still remembered it. I'd never forget it. I just hadn't known that it was the smell of my own death._

_"H-how long do... I have,"_

_My mind was whirring with questions that really had no answers. I had no idea how I was getting any of them out._

_"With treatment, there's no telling. You could live a long life."_

_God, could he just stop already?_

_My voice was scathing. "And without?"_

_"Ashley, it's important to remain positive and look at our options. It's not time to give up yet, not at all."_

_"Just tell me how long I have, already!"_

_He released my hand and leaned back with a sigh. "As of the current stage, which is fairly advanced, and without treatment, you're looking at six months to a year."_

_Six months, maybe a year..._

_That's all?_

_I was supposed to go on the road with my band, maybe go to college. I wasn't supposed to have anything figured out yet because I was supposed to have time to figure it all out._

_I was supposed to get married to Spencer, have a life, a family with her._

_And all of those dreams were gone in an instant, stolen from me by the very person who gave me life._

_"Look," he said. "We should wait for Christine to get here. Then we can go over the treatments available-"_

_"No!"_

_The volume of my voice startled both of us. _

_"You can't tell her," I whispered._

_He shook his head. "She's your guardian and you're on her insurance. She'll help you get through this, you'll see."_

_"No," I shook my head. "I forbid you to tell her. I'm eighteen now. You can't unless I allow you to, right?"_

_I thought that was true. I mean, I knew enough from sex ed to know that you could have an abortion at sixteen without anyone contacting your parents._

_He sighed. "That's true. I'm obligated to keep your information confidential, but you need to understand that she needs to know, that there are options. This isn't necessarily a death sentence. We can help you."_

_I shook my head again. "No, I don't want anyone to know. I'm telling you that now. No one gets to know."_

_About this time, Christine was escorted into the room by the nurse. Neither of us looked at her, instead I held his gaze with my own. He needed to know that I was serious._

_He nodded once before breaking eye contact. _

_"Good afternoon, Mrs. Davies," he greeted her pleasantly. "We're all done here." He looked to me with that fake smile. "I've just gone over the results with Ashley. I'll give you two a moment alone."_

_He looked at me pointedly. "If you have any questions or change your mind, call me immediately."_

_I nodded, my resolve unwavering. And with that, he was gone._

_My head was swimming, my stomach roiling, I still couldn't catch my breath, but somehow, I found a way to smile at Christine._

_Christine... this would kill her. _

_I had gone into the attic once when I was around fourteen and stumbled upon a box of photos that contained her, a really handsome man, and a young girl. I'd also found a newspaper clipping detailing a tragic car accident with a drunk driver. _

_I hadn't taken much to piece it all together, even though we'd never spoken about it. She'd already lost her family, her daughter, once. I wasn't going to do that to her again._

_"Hey," I croaked out, clearing my throat and standing. "It's all good. The doctor said that it's just allergies and I can take some over-the-counter stuff to help with the symptoms."_

_I had no idea what over-the-counter item that might be, and for a moment I didn't think she was going to buy it, but then she hated doctor's as much as I did. And anything was better than the truth._

_She nodded at me, a small exhale of relief released from her. _

_"Alright then," she said. "Let's settle the bill and go on home. We can stop at Walmart on the way."_


	11. Chapter 11 - Excuses or Reasons, Part 1

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Nude as the news - Ahahahahaha! That's great. Talk to SoNFan. She wanted them broken up. *points at valued reviewer shamelessly* **

**Guest - Yeah, I can let you stew on stuff, but I don't see a need. I'd like to keep putting up content while I've got you guys talking. Hopefully more people join the convo. Thanks for the response on Spencer. We'll see quite a bit more of her present day in the remainder of the story. We still have a long ways to go, actually. Thanks for the encouragement and input. :D**

**Bluebell28 - Thanks for your input. I'm glad that you're enjoying it. I know the flashbacks can be a little frustrating, but honestly, we're not even to the main part of the story yet. There's just so much to get through. I find the chopping a little disorienting too. It's almost because of the way I've chosen to write the story, it needs to be read in one sitting. But, can't really do that. It's too long. Anyway, it'll level out soon because the flashbacks are coming to end. Thanks again for the feedback!**

**So glad you guys are enjoying it! Keep the meaty nuggets of insight coming!**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Excuses or Reasons, Part 1**

Spencer was quiet throughout my tale of where it all started and she had been for several minutes now.

I decided to just be quiet with her until she was ready to start screaming at me.

I mean, it was a lot to take in.

But then, she was never supposed to have to, and she needs to understand that.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," I break the silence. "This is why I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want to have to lay all of this on you. I didn't want to hurt you."

Oh man, that _really _set her off, but she isn't screaming.

You know how sometimes you tell someone something that you know is going to get you screamed at, but instead, when you tell them, the anger is so intense that it's quiet and ten times more terrifying?

Yeah, that's what she's doing right now.

"You didn't want to hurt me," she seethes.

I nod, not really sure where this is going.

"You _really _think that by dumping me and running off somewhere to _die_, you were saving me from pain?"

Oh, okay. I should have seen that coming. I mean, Kyla's been saying the same thing since she found me.

"Well," I choke. "I guess I thought that it would be easier for you if you could just hate me and move on..."

Angry tears are spilling down her cheeks as she pins me in a cold stare.

"Did it ever _once_ cross your mind that maybe it would hurt _worse_ to know that you didn't love me and left me voluntarily, than to know that you did love me and had no choice but to leave?"

Well...

I frown.

No...

Her words start to sink in heavily and congeal in the bottom of my skull. I hadn't even considered that at all.

Is it better to lose someone you love to death or abandonment?

I mean, that's an absurd question really. They both really fucking suck...

But yeah, I think I'd rather be loved and lose them than to wonder what's so wrong with me that they don't want me.

Fuck... I knew that I'd messed this up before, but now...

Angry tears are rolling down my cheeks this time.

I can't even say I'm sorry. It's _so_ not good enough.

There's no way for me to make this right. I was such a... dick, a supremely stupid, selfish, unthinking dick.

"What happened when you left," she interrupts my self-loathing.

Her eyes are so broken, so shattered. Why'd I do that to her?

How could I have done that to her?

I stand. "You know what, I shouldn't have done this. It's not enough, but all I can say is I'm sorry. I'll... I'll leave you alone now."

I move to make my way to the door but her loud voice stops me in my tracks.

"Oh no you fucking don't!"

Apparently I spoke too soon. The screaming was just sort of building, I guess.

She grabs my arm and pulls me around to face her.

"You don't get to show up here after _four fucking_ _years_, tell me that you're _dying, _and just run away again!"

Now, you'd think that I'd have learned by now not to tempt the fates, but I can't help but think that it can't get any worse.

And then, of course, it does.

The sea-witch comes striding into the room, her hair a matted mess about her head, her eyes disoriented and crazy as she takes in the situation.

"What the fuck is going on," she asks.

Her eyes track to the hand Spencer has on my arm.

"Get your hands off of her," she nearly shrieks.

At me...

Why is she shrieking at me? I'm not touching Spencer...

She steps right up to me and shoves me hard, and I stumble back into the wall near the entryway with an, "Ooph."

Oh, that was so a wrong move.

Spencer grabs for Carmen but she's already moving towards me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let her get another freebie in.

I'm off the wall, my instincts kicking in, and my fist swinging at her face. It lands solidly against her left eye and crumples her to her knees.

"ASHLEY, WHAT THE FUCK!?"

I flex and shake my hand while Spencer crouches next to her.

"Are you okay," she asks and tries to move Carmen's hair out of the way to check the damage, but Carmen shoves Spencer off of her.

"Get off me," she says irritably as Spencer stumbles into the coffee table. "Do you see what you've done!?"

That was another wrong move, the worst possible move.

I step up close to Carmen as she tries to pull herself up and shove her with my foot to send her back to her ass.

She braces herself with her elbows and looks up at me with surprised pique. "If you ever touch Spencer like that again, next time I'll put you in the hospital."

She pulls herself up, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Get out of my house," she growls.

"Gladly," I say, straightening my jacket.

I go over to Spencer and try to help her up but she shoves me away.

What's with all the fucking shoving?

"How dare you," she says brokenly. "Just... leave me alone."

I watch dumbfounded as she pushes her way past Carmen and disappears into the hallway.

"Get out," Carmen says again.

I look into the depths of the house and realize that it's all just too fucked up to get better.

What happened to Spencer? Why would she let anyone treat her that way? Why would she be pissed that I stood up for her?

So much has obviously changed.

I walk to the door and step out, the stairs still mocking me as run down them, jog across the street, and throw myself into my Humvee with an angry slam of the door.

My hands are trembling, and fail several times in getting my keys from my jacket pocket to the ignition. I wind up dropping them into the floorboard, and that's all I need to break down and start slamming my palms into the steering wheel while I shout random curse words.

I don't even know what I'm saying.

There may have been a Justin Bieber in there somewhere. I mean, he's a douche. But there's not a pause and I'm sure that mother Theresa is crossing herself in heaven.

Finally, the ire dissipates and I rest my forehead against the wheel, breathing heavily.

I close my eyes.

It was never supposed to be this way. How did everything get so fucked up? I should have just stayed away...

I hear a door slam and my head snaps up to see Spencer dressed rather sloppily and making her way towards her car with a bag in her hand. Carmen comes careening out a moment later, still in her robe and bare feet.

"Spencer, I said I was sorry."

Spencer pops the trunk on her car and throws the bag inside, speaking calmly. "You shoved me, and I'm sorry, but I won't put up with that. Ashley had no right to hit you like she did, but there's just no excuse for your behavior tonight."

"Spence, come on, I was just confused and angry! She was touching you..."

Spencer shuts the trunk and makes her way to the driver's side door. "_I_ was touching her_ arm_, but that still wasn't a good enough reason to shove either of us. I told you that I'd handle the situation with her, but you just couldn't let me."

"I tried to tell you earlier tonight that this would happen, but you wouldn't listen."

She stops before entering the car and shakes her head. "This has been a long time coming, Carmen. You always have to have control of everything, the house, my family, the finances, all of it. I just, I need some time away from you to think."

And with that, Spencer gets in and backs out of her driveway, Carmen stubbing her toe on those laughing steps as she tries to re-enter the house in a huff.

I may have misjudged those steps...

I was too busy cheering Spencer and the steps on to realize that I was about to lose her. I had a choice to make: let her leave or be the creepy stalker she said I am and follow her.

Guess which one I choose?

I nearly knock myself out on the steering wheel as I bend for the keys and peel off after her. Once she's back in my sights, I flip my iPod to Radiohead while I follow the little Toyota.

I mean, it just seems fitting.

After a while I realize that Spencer is driving in aimless circles, as if she doesn't know where to go. But then, maybe that's the point. I always take a drive when I need to clear my head.

God, this night has turned out even worse than I'd anticipated, and I'd already assumed that it would be bad.

This is just...

No words.

Well, the words Jerry and Springer come to mind.

But I'm not going to dwell on that thought. Right now I needed to figure out what I'm going to say to her when she does finally stop.

And just like that, she pulls into the parking lot of The Starlite Motel, or The Tarte Motel, if you go by the broken bulbs on the sign.

I must say the name is apt. Every door is accessible from the outside, and each is a study in pasty, neon colors straight from the seventies. The outer metal walls are yellowed and dingy from time and tobacco, and they obviously rent rooms by the hour if the whores on the corner are any indication.

I park in the back of the lot closest to the street, not sure how to proceed. I mean, I can't let her go into that place alone, even if that's not my real reason for being here.

She still hasn't gotten out of her car and I hope that she decides better of it.

There's a knock at my window and I turn to see an older, dirty blonde with stringy hair, dark roots, and wearing dental floss as she smacks her gum.

I crack the window. "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on, baby. You looked stressed," she grins and her yellow teeth have clods of lipstick stuck to them.

God, it's revolting.

"I said I'm not interested."

What I really mean is that I'm not nearly drunk or desperate enough.

"Whatevs," she shrugs. "Your loss."

She turns to walk away, pulling her jacket tighter around her and I sigh. She'll probably smoke it all, but I have plenty to spare.

I roll the window down a little further and call out to her. "Hey!"

She turns and saunters back, trying to be sexy.

"I knew you'd change your mind, lover," she purrs.

"Here," is all I say as I pass a Benjamin through the window.

Her eyes seem to size me up with trepidation. "You into kinky shit, or somethin'?"

I chuckle and waggle the bill at her. "I'm still not interested, but I'm feeling generous."

She takes the bill apprehensively, puts a hand on her hip, and holds it in front of her. "You really don't want nothin'?"

I shake my head, fairly certain all she has to give me is venereal disease. "Nope."

She smiles again. "Hey, you're alright, lady. I mean, ma'am..."

I chortle. "Thanks."

"How come you're doin' this?"

That's a good question. "Um... well, I know what it's like to live on the streets."

"Huh," she says before tucking the bill in her loose cleavage. "Alright, well, have a good night, doll."

"You too," I say as she walks away.

I notice movement out of the corner of my eye and see that Spencer hasn't changed her mind. She grabs her bag from the trunk and squeezes past some letch with a hooker on his arm to enter the lobby.

I watch her through the murky glass doors as she pays for a room, retrieves a key, and comes back outside. She heads straight up the stairs and to the third yellowish-green door on the left, and disappears inside.

I get out of my Humvee and click the lock on the keychain, trying to decide what I'm going to say when she realizes that I'm here, and that I must have followed her.

How do I really explain that?

Before I know it, I'm standing in front of that door with no idea what to say as I knock lightly.

There's no response.

I lean into the door a bit to listen inside, but I can't make out any sounds.

I knock again, and still no response.

I sigh. "Spencer, it's me..."

She still isn't answering so I knock again.

"Spence, come on, open the door..."

"Go away, Ashley."

God, she's crying.

"Spence...," I fumble a little bit. "Look, I know you're upset and you're hurting, and I'm sorry that I decked your girlfriend. I shouldn't have. Just please, open the door so I can talk to you."

"I don't want to talk right now."

She wants space. I should respect that. I know it, but isn't four years long enough?

"Spence, I don't want to leave things this way..."

I can't. Who knows if I'll ever see her again?

With that she opens the door, glares at me, and perches on the far chair by the window. The smell of stale cigarettes and sex is thick on the air inside and I almost gag. I can't let her stay here.

I shut the door and lock it behind me before taking the seat opposite from her. The ashtray on the lopsided table between us is full, and someone etched a penis on the surface next to it.

Silence descends and I want to slap myself. I just can't seem to get it together tonight.

"Well," she starts. "How do you want to leave this, because I really think you should."

I pull in some air and let it out to try and calm myself.

"First," I say. "I'm sorry." She glances at me incredulously. "I know, but that's all I can say." I shrug. "I'm just sorry for everything, for leaving the way I did, for hurting you, for tonight, for just everything."

She nods.

"Second, no matter what happens from here on out, please don't expect me to leave you here." I gesture to the room. "As it stands, we're both probably going to need antibiotics, and I just don't know if I can handle something else to feel guilty for."

She chuckles a little bit and I smile at the sound of it.

But then that sound is gone. "Why do you care now?"

"Come on, Spencer, haven't you been listening?" I meet her eyes and soften my voice. "I've always cared. I just didn't do it the right way, and if I have to choose between being right and protecting you, I'll be wrong every time."

She exhales heavily and smiles a little bit. "I get it. I really do. I just... I was so in love with you, Ash."

Was?

"You broke my heart, Ash."

"I broke mine too, Spence."

"And that's the worst part of this, Ashley." She's picking up steam again. "You were alone and hurting and _dying, _and I had no idea. You could be dead, and I'd have never known. How could you do that me, to Christine and Kyla, to yourself? It's just..."

She shakes her head at a loss for words so I finish it for her. "Scary."

She scoffs. "It's fucking terrifying."

An idle thought strikes me. "You curse a lot more now..."

She laughs again and shakes her head. "I think I've used the f-word more times tonight than in the last four years."

I laugh with her and for a moment, I feel like things might still be salvageable.

"What happened in those four years, Ash?"

* * *

_LA was a massive city, so much bigger than any I'd ever seen. It would have been intimidating, but that's the strange thing about knowing that you're going to die, you don't really care what happens to you._

_Part of me figured that being in a city this large alone and with nothing to lose might just speed the process along, and so I decided to use that to my advantage._

_I slept wherever and ate whatever, playing my guitar for tips and siphoning electricity and wi-fi from any place that didn't know to kick me out immediately so that I could tool around on my laptop._

_But mostly, I just waited for it all to end and I could tell that it was starting to work. This disease sapped my immune system and so living in elements only exasperated my condition. Within two months, I had a cold that wouldn't go away; I was constantly running a fever, I couldn't breathe very well, and I slept a lot._

_But I just kept moving as much as I could, wandering the streets aimlessly and avoiding people. I would sometimes go to the LGBT crisis center for a shower and a bed for the night, and so one night, feeling particularly sick, I decided to take shelter there._

_I fell asleep immediately but when I woke up, I was in a hospital with tubes in my arm and nose. I knew that I had to get out of there before they figured out who I was. I mean, I was of age so Christine had no rights, but I didn't want them to call her._

_I tried to sneak out but just as I was stumbling around my room for my clothes, a woman I'd seen at the shelter came in with a cup of coffee. _

_She was older, her face a little stern but her eyes gray eyes were kind behind her floating frame glasses. Her silver hair was short and a little spiky, and her style of dress reminded me of Ellen DeGeneres._

_We stared at each other for a moment before she put the coffee down and crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

_I laughed at the irony, finally spotting my bag in the corner of the room. I was so weak that I could barely walk, but I found my way over to it._

_"What's it to you," I asked as I slumped next to the bag and started to rummage through it._

_"Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm just doomed to care for people who don't care for themselves."_

_"Then stop caring," I said simply, pulling out a pair of underwear and socks._

_About this time a nurse entered the room freaking out about the flat-line on my monitor. "What's going on?" She finally spotted me on the floor. "You need to get back in bed."_

_She came at me like she was going to grab me but then stopped when my eyes reached hers. She must have seen the warning there._

_"You can't hold me here."_

_"We can't release you either. You're not well enough."_

_I laughed at her. "And I'm not going to be. So, back off."_

_"Look," she said. "I'm just trying to help you..."_

_"Well I don't want your help," I snapped back, my head swimming, my breath catching, my stomach churning, and my body desperate for unconsciousness. _

_"There is no help. Not for me..." I finished breathlessly._

_I unfolded the socks and tried to slip them on, but it was a struggle. I barely had the strength to pull them up._

_"I'm going to get the doctor," I heard the nurse say before exiting the room._

_Great, just another pushy prick to deal with._

_The woman from the crisis center came forward and started to help me but I pushed her hands away. "I don't need your pity."_

_She laughed, full and hardy, and I scowled at her. _

_"Oh, I don't pity you," she started. "I just figured I'd help you get dressed so that we can both be on our way."_

_Wow, she so shouldn't have been working at a crisis center. "I hope they don't have you working the suicide lines, lady, because you're cold."_

_She laughed again. "No, I'm just not going to placate your little tantrums. If you don't want help, fine." She shrugged. "I'm not going to waste my time."_

_Where did she get off? "You think I just don't want help? There is no help. I'm dying."_

_She sat back on her haunches and stared at me for a moment, but I was losing motor functions quickly. I lurched to my feet, trying to make it to the bathroom, but I just couldn't. She caught me around the waist and held me as I lost my meager stomach contents all over the floor._

_When I finally slumped into her arms, my body unwilling to listen to my demands to move, she finally asked. "What do you have?"_

_"Aplastic... anemia," I choked out. "I only have about... three more, months, maybe..."_

_She rubbed soothing circles on my back and somewhere in the back of my addled mind, I knew that someone else had entered the room and I was being lifted back onto the bed. I heard them talking, but I couldn't make out the words as the world went dark._

_When I came to, the light in the window was a deep golden yellow, signaling the end of another day. _

_I was one step closer..._

_I didn't want to die in a hospital, but I was too weak to even consider moving. I felt some pressure on my hand and found the strength to turn my head. The woman from the crisis center was still here. _

_She smiled at me._

_"Why are you still here," I rasped out._

_"Because I can help you, if you want it."_

_I felt tears sting the back of my eyes. Hadn't she been listening? There just wasn't any help. "I already told you..."_

_"I know what you told me, but I'm telling you that I spoke with the doctor about your disease and there are treatment options."_

_"Did he tell you that I'd have to take pills that will make me even sicker and my hair would fall out?"_

_She nodded. "Yes."_

_"Did he tell you that the only known cure requires a bone marrow transplant?"_

_"Yes, and she..." She paused to emphasize the correct gender. "Also said that, at your age and advanced stage, your chances would be very good with a blood related donor."_

_"And without a blood related donor?"_

_"Fifty-fifty," she said._

_"Fifty-fifty?"_

_She nodded again._

_"So you want me to lose my hair, get worse, and undergo surgery that I can't afford for a fifty-fifty chance?"_

_She seemed to think about it for a moment before she nodded. "We should go for a relative first, but yes, I want you to try."_

_"Okay, so did she...," I paused to let her know that I'd been listening. "Also tell you that I don't have any relatives but a thirteen-year-old half-sister and a meth addict mother who's been in jail since I was eleven?" _

_She sighed and didn't answer, so I pressed on._

_"How about the fact that I'd be dead by the time they got to my name on that very long list of people already waiting for donors?"_

_Her eyes became glossy and I reminded her. "I don't want your pity."_

_She brushed the hair from my overheated forehead. "I don't pity you, but I am worried for you."_

_"Don't be," I said. "It'll be over soon."_

_We sat in silence for a little while before she spoke. "Listen, I know you don't know me, and you don't want my pity, but will you accept my help anyway?"_

_"God, you just don't give up, do you," I groaned._

_She laughed. "Nope, and you shouldn't either."_

_I thought about it for a minute. The whole point of not trying the treatments was to spare my family the pain of losing me. This woman was a stranger. It wouldn't kill her when I died. If she wanted to waste her time, who was I to stop her? _

_Besides, I was already in pretty bad shape. It couldn't really get any worse._

_"Fine," I said. "I don't have any money, and you can do whatever you want. It's futile, but..." _

_I just shrugged. _

_"Thank you," she said. _

_It was quiet for a moment longer. "My name's Shirley McDaniels."_

_She looked at me expectantly and I realized that giving her my name could be disastrous. What if she called Christine? _

_I decided then that there would be one stipulation. _

_"There's something you have to agree to, Ms. McDaniels, without question."_

_She frowned and I continued. "Under no circumstances are you to contact my family. They aren't to know anything."_

_She sighed. "I thought you said that you don't have any family."_

_"I have an adoptive mother. That's where my sister is, and neither of them can know. Do you understand?"_

_She mulled it over for a moment. "Are you a runaway?"_

_I nodded. "Yes, but I'm also eighteen."_

_She was smart; I had to give her that. "Okay, she said."_

_"Can I get that in writing," I asked and she chuckled._

_"No need. I promise you that I won't contact your sister or adoptive mother." She raised her hand and lifted two fingers. "Girl scouts honor."_

_A flashback of Spencer doing the same thing slammed into my skull and I felt the tears come unbidden, but I ignored them. _

_"So, what's your name," she asked._

_"Ashley Davies," I said._


	12. Chapter 12 - Excuses or Reasons, Part 2

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**SoNFan - That's right. Sit there and stew in your shameful juices. :P**

**Son-lyn - Thanks for clarifying. The fast posting was mostly because I had the time. I'll probably get to once, maybe twice, a week now. I too started the show long after it went off the air. It's kind of sad. I can't imagine what it was like to write fic in its hay day. I am hoping that more people notice the story and reply, but I'm fairly satisfied with some of the criticism I've received. I have tapered off from talking to the reader more, and will try to choose my timing from here on out. I'm glad that you noticed. I want to say thank you for your direction in Spencer's hardship over the four year gap. I'd been so focused on Ash, that I hadn't really gone there. I think this chapter will give you what you want. Keep the input coming. It's helping a lot.**

**Casalang - Ash's life has been one giant shit storm, and she has a long way to go, but it's a learning process. **

**Nude as the news - Drugs are bad, m'kay? I'm glad you're jonesing though. It makes me feel uber leet.**

**Bluebell28 - FYI, I think that the flashbacks are mostly over. :D**

**So glad you guys are enjoying it! Keep the meaty nuggets of insight coming!**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Excuses or Reasons, Part 2**

Spencer shuts her eyes. "Thank God," she breathes almost desperately.

I gaze at her curiously. "Thank God?"

"Thank God you had someone to help you."

"Oh," I say.

"Even when you wouldn't help yourself," she chastises.

I look down properly contrite. "I was young and scared, Spence."

It's quiet for a moment, but I can tell that it's going to take some time for her to really let what happened go, despite my reasons, or excuses, or whatever she thinks they are.

"So she took you in," she changes the topic.

I nod, thankful for neutral territory. "Pretty much, and good thing too. I started taking this medicine that they give to chemo patients to reset their immune system. My hair fell out and I got pretty sick, but it seemed to work."

"So that's why your hair is so much shorter," she observes.

I reach up to finger the shoulder length curls absentmindedly. "Yeah, it's a good thing it grows fast. Bald is not a good look for me."

She smirks at me. "I bet you still looked beautiful."

I grin at her and she clears her throat. "So all you needed were pills?"

She's good at this 'changing the subject' thing.

"No, I kept relapsing every couple of months. Shirley and her partner, Steph, took care of me." I shrug. "And we waited."

"Waited... for what," she seems almost afraid to ask.

"For a donor... or death..."

She wipes at her red, swollen eyes. "Did you... finally get one?"

I sigh. "Yeah, but it came at a price."

Spencer frowns. "Like... the black market?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "God, Spence, I wouldn't even know how to do that. I mean, put a post on Craigslist or something?"

She laughs with me for a moment before I truly consider the question. "Actually, now that you say it that way, it's not too far from the truth."

"How do you mean?"

"Do you remember all the programming I used to tinker with?"

She rolls her eyes. "God, sometimes I had to practically straddle you naked to get you to take your eyes off that screen."

Wow, there's a mental image I can totally live with.

We're both quiet for a moment before she finally says, "Sorry, that was a little... awkward."

I grin slyly at her. "Speak for yourself."

She reaches over the table and smacks me on the arm. "Lech."

I chuckle. "Guilty as charged."

"Anyway," she says pointedly. "What about the programming?"

"Remember that app I made where I could upload my playlist to the internet and access it from anywhere?"

She nods, a wistful smile lighting her features. "That thing was pretty cool. It was kind of like Spotify."

I grin at her. "That's because it is."

Her brows furrow for a moment before her jaw goes slack.

"No way..."

I nod. "Yeah, I mean, they added sponsors, a bunch of chunky code for looks, make people pay for it, and changed the name for obvious reasons, but..."

She leans her head back and laughs. "Beaver Destroyer's Symposium of Music..." She facepalms. "It's little wonder..."

I chuckle with her. "Yup, BDSM..."

"God, you were so twisted." She glances over at me. "I've missed your sense of humor."

I smile at her. "I've missed yours too, Spence."

More than she could ever know...

It's quiet again, but not so loaded, and I'm thankful.

"So, you sold it?"

I nod.

"How," she asks.

"Well, we'd been waiting for about a year and I was certain that I was going to die, so I asked Shirley to sell all of my worldly possessions: one whole bag of clothes, my laptop, and Al."

"No way... you sold Al?" She frowns. "But you played him last night at the concert."

I grin because she'd noticed.

"I was just being dramatic, but she did as I asked." I laugh as the memory catches up to me. "Shirley doesn't put up with my shit... at all. She figured if I wanted to be a dumbass, I'd have to pay the consequences. Little did she know that my melodrama gave her an opening that would extend my life."

I can tell that she's confused. "So, how does that relate to buying a donor?" She scrunches up her face. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd say."

I chuckle at her. "The guy who bought the laptop, Joe, was a friend of Shirley's. He's a programmer who works for Microsoft. He showed up at the house about six months later and told me that one of his friends in Sweden, who had been trying to market something similar without great results, had taken a look at it and wanted to buy it. Now, technically, when Joe bought the laptop, he owned anything on it, but because we programmers have a code that we live by," I smirk at her and rolls her eyes. "He handed me a check right then and there for half of the purchase price. After taxes, I had about 12.5 million."

Spencer looks like she's going to pass out and I chuckle.

"Woah," she says.

"Indeed," I agree. "I found Al again later, and after some shrewd haggling, he's probably the most expensive guitar on the planet."

She nods. "And with good reason. He's Al... You can't _not_ have Al."

I can't help but agree. Al's gotten me through some really crazy shit.

"Wow... so you took the money and paid off a donor."

I exhale heavily. "Actually, it wasn't just some random person. Shirley got desperate as things got worse and went to visit my biological mother in jail."

"You're kidding me?" I shake my head. "God, you must have been furious."

She knows me so well...

"I was. But, I couldn't really argue with the results, because ten thousand dollars later, I not only had a donor, but a blood related donor."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't believe your own mother made you pay for her help."

I shrug. It was par the course for dear old mom.

Her eyes are sympathetic as she looks to me. "Did you... talk to her?"

"I didn't want to; she didn't want to. It was just a business deal."

I jump a little when I feel a hand take my mine across the table.

"I'm so sorry, Ash."

I run my thumb over her knuckles absorbing the comfort and marveling at how such a small gesture can mean so much.

"It's not your fault, Spence, and it doesn't matter. She was just a stranger, no different than a random donor from the list."

We sit like that for a moment before she pulls her hand away.

Why'd she pull her hand away?

She frowns. "Wait, didn't she have the disease as well?"

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, feeling far too bereft without that contact.

"Um, not necessarily. The disease is pretty rare, and far more common among adolescents than adults. They did some tests on her first to be sure, but being in jail all those years had kept her clean and given her body time to repair some of the damage. They determined that she was an optimal choice, so I had the surgery."

"And that was how long ago?"

"A little over two years."

She mirrors my pose, her thoughts turning inward. "So... obviously you're still here."

"I am."

"Are you... cured?"

I sigh and stare at the dingy carpet, letting mind consider what those stains could be, even as much as I don't want to know, because I'd rather focus on anything right now than have to answer that question.

But my lack of answer is taking too long.

"Ash...," her voice is pleading.

"I'm in remission and I haven't relapsed since the transplant, but that doesn't mean that I won't at any time. I won't know for another year or so if I'm really in the clear. I may not ever really know until it just happens."

It's quiet again, the oppressive kind, and I glance over at her to see her folded over on herself and sobbing so hard that it doesn't even make a sound.

"Aw, Spence..."

I kneel before her and take her in my arms, resting my chin on her shoulder while she cries it all out. She clings to me so tightly that I think that I might break, but then maybe we both need to.

I can't help but join her. All of it's been so hard, so unfair. And it's my fault that she's so hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Spence. So sorry..."

I'm not sure how long we stayed this way, but the sun is coming up through the window now.

My legs are numb but I still don't want to move. I just want to hold onto her, but I know that I can't. She's not mine to hold onto. I gave up that right ages ago.

I lean back and look into her weary face, realizing that doing this to her isn't fair.

"Hey, why don't we get out of here," I suggest.

She exhales heavily. "I don't want to go home and face the music just yet."

I smile at her and the words tumble out before I can stop myself. "Come to my place."

Her face falls a little bit. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" I try to recover. "I have a fully loaded guest room, it's quiet, and you can stay as long as you need to."

She seems to consider before shaking her head and pulling back a little further.

"I really don't know where I stand with Carmen right now, but I know that going to your place, even for a few hours, would only make things worse."

She's got to be kidding...

Okay, Davies. It's her life. If she wants to be with the sea-witch, that's her right.

I get to my feet to put a little more space between us.

"I should probably go home anyway," she continues. "I have to call in to work, and my dogs need to be fed."

I frown. "You have dogs?"

She smiles. "Yeah, two Dobermans: Flotsam and Jetsam."

I put a hand over my mouth to just contain whatever this is I'm feeling. I mean, this has got to be a joke.

"What," she asks. "I've always loved The Little Mermaid." She shrugs. "You know that..."

Indeed I do.

Spencer is truly one poor, unfortunate soul...

I suck in my cheeks to hold in an outburst before clearing my throat.

"Well, the offer still stands, for the three of you."

She nods.

"So... what do you want to do, because I know you're dead on your feet and like I said, I'm not leaving you here."

"Um...," She scrubs at her tired eyes. "I think I'll go home. Carmen and I need to talk, whether I'm ready or not."

"Alright," I say, holding out a hand to her as I hold in my comments. She takes it and I help her up. We turn in the room key and I stand at her car awkwardly, not wanting to let her go just yet.

"I, um, I'll follow you?" She glances up at me curiously. "Just to... you know, make sure you get there okay."

She smiles and nods, and just as we're about to part ways to enter our respective vehicles, the hooker I helped comes up to us.

"Hey, you," she slurs.

Fuck...

She throws an arm over my shoulders and leans in close to my ear, her other hand snaking a finger around on my collarbone.

"You showed me a _real _good time last night. Are you sure you won't let me thank you properly?"

I disentangle myself from her. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Aw, okay," she stumbles away before turning and walking backwards and shouting, "But if you change your mind..."

I scrub a hand over my face.

"Friend of yours," Spencer asks.

I glare at her. "She propositioned me last night and I gave her some money to make her go away. That's all."

I have no idea why I feel the need to explain myself.

I glance back at the trick's retreating form a little dejectedly. Apparently she put my generosity to good use...

"Sure," Spencer says with a smug smile.

I open her car door and hold it for her. "Just get in the car."

She chuckles but does as she's bade, and I make my way to my Humvee, happily surprised that it's still intact and graffiti free.

I follow Spencer to her house, which when taking a direct route, is only about ten minutes away in the light, early morning traffic.

The yellow jeep is nowhere to be seen and a relieved breath escapes me, knowing that I can at least talk to Spencer for a little longer.

I park and meet her at her car to walk her to her door, a question burning on my lips. "So what happened with you after I left, Spence?"

She unlocks the front door and I follow her inside. She begins to talk as she heads straight back to the French doors off of the kitchen.

"I was a mess, in all honesty. Mom was ecstatic but dad tried to be there for me. I just wouldn't have it. I only barely pulled myself together in time for school."

"I'm so sorry, Spencer..."

She opens the doors and two rambunctious Dobermans come frolicking inside happily.

"Hello, my babies!"

She ruffles the fur on their heads and continues to coo at them before picking up their bowls and setting them on the counter.

"Stop apologizing, Ash. I'm still angry at you, but I understand why you did it."

I stare down at my shoes. "Do you understand?"

She glances over at me, that pensive look washing over her again. "I understand that you thought you were saving me pain, but I don't understand how you thought that would work." She shrugs away her frustration. "Either way, there's nothing that can be done to change it now."

I nod. "So, what happened after you went to school?"

"Oh... I sort of sunk into the school work and became a loaner. I avoided deep emotional attachments, but there was a girl who really pursued me."

It's kind of cute how the dogs sit and stare at her, their heads moving in unison with each movement she makes as she fills their bowls with chow.

"I dated her for a few months and she kept pushing for more, but I just didn't feel it. I couldn't really love anyone. She gave me an ultimatum, and I just didn't care, so that was it. That's how it went with the next girl too. I thought maybe I was just too broken to ever love anyone again, until I met Carmen"

She smiles and I feel my stomach flop when I see that it reaches her eyes.

"She was the first person who was really there for me, who took the time to really get to know me, and even when I was kind of cruel to her, she still stuck around. She gave me time and space, you know? But I was still determined not to let it get serious. After graduation, I decided to move out here to pursue a job with Universal, essentially breaking up with her. But instead, she gave up everything to move with me. That's how much she wanted to be with me."

I tuck my hands in my coat pockets and watch the dogs tear into their breakfast.

"Are you in love with her," I ask.

She nods. "Yes. She's a good person, she's attentive, she looks out for me, and I know that she's committed to me."

Where's the passion? Where's the 'I can't live without her'?

And... "What about last night?"

She leans against the counter and sighs. "She's always been jealous of you - your memory, I mean. She knew that I had been completely in love with you," Had been... "And so you were the reason she'd had to fight so hard to help me through it. But that was the past. Neither of us thought that I'd ever see you again, but then Kyla..."

She throws her hands in the air in frustration and we both laugh knowingly.

Darn that meddling kid...

"So, I found myself in a situation that I didn't think I'd ever be in. She knew how much it had hurt me the first time. She didn't want me to talk to you."

"She hates me."

It was more of a statement than a question.

Spencer shakes her head. "Carmen's not like that. She doesn't hate people she doesn't know. I think she just resents you for what you put us both through. But, I convinced her last night that you didn't want anything to do with me, so it didn't matter. And I thought that I'd say hello and that would be it."

God, Carmen sounds like a saint.

She gives me a pointed look. "I assume you followed me to the motel last night, but how'd you find our house anyway?"

"Kyla," I say without remorse. She deserves to be thrown under the bus after what she pulled.

"Figures...," she says.

It's quiet - nothing but the dogs licking at their bowls, and a thought comes to me.

"So why'd you talk to me when I showed up here?"

She shrugs. "I guess I just... needed to know... you know?"

I really do. That's why I came.

I also know that I shouldn't say anything. But... "She shoved you, Spence..."

She presses her head against her palm and groans. "I've never seen her like that before! She was just so..."

"She doesn't trust you," I finish for her.

She looks over at me. "She doesn't trust _you_," she rejoins. "She thinks you're here to sweep me away, and she's afraid that I'll let you."

Will you?

God, I want to ask. I want to know. I want to sweep.

"She loves me, Ash, and I love her. When you showed up, I pretty much told her that I was going to talk to you whether she liked it or not, knowing full well how much that would only further hurt her."

The dogs, now fed, find the next most interesting thing in the room: me. They're sniffing my feet but their tails are wagging. I reach a hand down and they sniff it as well.

Their furry muzzles tickle and I smile.

"They like you," Spencer observes. "They don't usually like other people."

I grin a little more. I've never been one for animals, and squishy cat used to drive me crazy getting into everything when Kyla would let him roam the house like a spaz, but I find that I like these two.

"Why do you keep them outside," I ask. I mean, she obviously adores them.

"Carmen doesn't like how hairy they are, and she says they smell."

I frown. Their coats are sleek and shiny, and they're unusually clean. Even what little bit I can see of their teeth is white. Spencer obviously takes exceptional care of them.

I reach out and pet one of them, scratching a little behind his pointed ears. I glance up at Spencer to see her staring down at the floor, her face a mask of worry.

"Spence, I'm not trying to cause problems with you and Carmen...," I start.

Is that a lie?

"But she shoved you..."

Yes and no...

She glances up at me, her eyes giving me a warning. "I think I owe her the benefit of the doubt after two years," Spencer answers. "We have some problems, but I'm willing to work them through, whatever it takes, and I know that she is too."

And, like a knife to my heart, I realize that Spencer's lost. I messed things up too badly and there's no going back.

But I'm not ready to lose her again. I need her in my life, even if it's just as friends. I can do just friends, right?

Does she even want that?

"So, um... where, I mean, what happens now," I ask, hoping to prod her for answers I don't have the guts to ask directly.

"She sighs. "I... I'm not really sure. I mean, I have to talk to Carmen. I know that she wouldn't like us being friends."

"Right," I say. "Okay, well, I really appreciate you listening to me. I'll, um, I'll go now."

I turn and make my way to the front door, the dogs following.

"Ashley, could you stop trying to run away long enough for us to finish a conversation?"

I turn back to her. She's standing there with her hand on her hip and a frustrated expression on her face.

"I was just going to say that we should exchange numbers and keep in touch. I'm sure things will settle down with Carmen once she sees that we're just friends."

Fuck me, this so totally blows...

"Besides," she steps closer to me. "You're family, Ash. I'm not going to let you face this alone."

"You don't owe me anything, Spencer."

"I know that," she says testily. "But I _want_ to be there for you."

She crosses her arms and shakes her head as if I've slapped her, and I can see the tears are trying to come again; I can _feel_ the tears trying to come again.

"I'm glad that you came to see me, Ash." Her voice is so broken. "I'm glad that you told me."

I swallow my emotions and snort incredulously. "You're kidding, right? All I did was deck your girlfriend and make you cry a lot."

She smiles a watery smile. "You also gave me a lot of closure."

Closure? As in done, final, over...?

I nod. It's the best that I can do.

She steps forward and holds out her cell, and I dig in my jacket pocket to retrieve mine. We exchange them and I see the picture of her and Carmen smiling together on her background before hastening to add my number to her contacts.

We exchange back and she closes what little distance is left to give me a hesitant hug.

I sigh, wrapping my arms around her and closing my eyes.

"You're not alone anymore, okay? Just remember that."

It was just a whisper, but as she pulls back, I find myself losing the fight with my tears.

I really don't want to cry anymore.

"Thank you," I choke out.

"You're welcome."

I gaze at her face, trying to memorize every feature. I've felt so starved for so long...

The door opens behind me. "Spence...?"

Spencer steps away quickly and we both turn to see an angry Carmen standing in the door like a statue and staring at us.

After a moment, she shuts the door calmly, too calmly.

"Can we talk," she looks at Spencer, ignoring me completely.

Spencer nods and walks up to her, hugging her in a way very different from the one that I just received. It's more proprietary, more... just more.

I need to get out of here.

"I'll let you deal with your stuff," I say as I step towards the door where Carmen immediately situates herself.

She looks me right in the eyes with cold indifference, saying everything even as she doesn't say a word. It's hard to feel threatened with the evidence of my having won the first fight darkening her left socket, but I know that she's just itching for a rematch.

The dogs growl and Spencer tugs on Carmen's arm until she finally relents and steps aside.

I open the door and hear some low whispering, but can't make out the words. It doesn't matter what's being said though. It's over now. At least she feels better. At least she's happy.

I run down those wonderful, toe-stubbing steps, and just as I reach the bottom, I hear Spencer call out to me.

"Ash, wait..."

I stop and pull it together long enough to face her. She shuts the door behind her and meets me at the bottom of the steps with a smile.

"Text me when you get home to let me know you're safe?"

I swallow thickly. "Okay..." This is it. "Bye, Spence."

"I'll see you _later_," she responds pointedly.

I nod though I don't believe it, and jog across the street to my car, hoping that I can find sleep when I get home but knowing that neither my mind nor my heart are going to be so accommodating.

Once I'm inside and the engine is started, I look over in time to see her wave. I wave back and remember why I did what I did the first time. It was to avoid situations just like this one.

It hurts too much to care enough to stick around and lose it all.

But, like a trainwreck, as much as you don't want to see it happen, you can't help but watch. And I do as she disappears back through the door and back out of my life.

I make my way home, not even really paying attention to all of the hustle and bustle that's going on around me. I feel like I'm in a daze, back in that place of going through the motions that Shirley had only barely pulled me from.

Part of me wants to hate Shirley right now. It's her fault that I'm alive and dealing with all of this.

And Kyla...

Well, she'd better not be home.

But as I pull up into my driveway, I find the garage door already open and I see her unloading a cage from the back seat of my convertible Porsche.

A cage...?

I park and step out of the Humvee.

"Hey," she greets brightly as she sets the cage down. "I'm glad you're home!"

I don't say anything as I inspect the backseat of the Porsche more carefully. A giant bag of cedar chips, a watering bottle, tiny toys, a long collapsible tube, Ferret food...

FERRET FOOD!

"Kyla, you didn't..."

She immediately finds the concrete at her feet interesting as she scuffs the toe of her flat against it, and I feel deep remorse for giving her full access to my bank account.

"Kyla," I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose against the headache that's starting to form.

"Come on, Ash...," she bounces over to me. "She's soooo cute and cuddly and sweet and you're going to love her, I promise."

"Take it back," I say coldly.

"Ash," she whines pathetically.

"No."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I live with you now, so this is my house too."

I nod. "Yes, but you never said that you'd be bringing home rats like the pied fucking piper."

"She's not a rat," she says indignantly. "And you know that I'll take care of her."

I sigh. I know that much is true. She adored Squishy Cat, who I learned made it to the ripe old age of nine before kicking the water bottle last year.

Kyla's watching me, waiting, but she already knows that she can wear me down and I'll give in to most anything, especially when she pouts.

What's that all about anyway?

Must be left over from our childhood...

She's still watching, growing more and more excited, and I finally roll my eyes.

"Fine," I snap.

She squeals and throws her arms around me, and I hug her back. I'm growing soft in my old age of twenty-two.

I lean back and point a finger at her. "If I smell that thing... even once..."

She shakes her head. "You know that I'll clean her habitat every day, just like Squishy..."

She gets a little sad and I feel myself getting sad with her. Why is life like that? Why are we destined to lose the ones that we love no matter what?

I'm talking about Spencer, not Squishy...

"I'm still pissed at you Kyla."

There, that snapped her out of it. "Oh come on; it's just a ferret..."

I gaze at her incredulously and it takes a few seconds, but her eyes finally light with understanding. "Oh! Yeah, you have to tell me everything!"

God, am I really so non-threatening?

She grabs my arm and starts to drag me into the house through the garage door, her mouth going a mile a minute.

"Did you tell her? What did she say? How'd she react? Was she sad or mad? Did she kick you out? Was she-"

"KYLA!"

She smiles...

I mean, she fucking _smiles_ when I shout at her...

"Sorry, okay, tell me everything, don't leave out a detail, and start from the beginning."

About this time a rat scampers over my feet, startling me, and I fling it off in reflex.

"ASH," Kyla shouts, picking the squeaking thing up and cooing to it before scowling at me. "You could have hurt her." She glares at me as the thing crawls up on her shoulder. "Were you _trying_ to hurt her?"

I gape at her. I mean, I'm a lot of things, but I don't abuse animals.

"It... scared me, that's all," I defend.

She thinks about it for a second and then grins. "Yeah, you screamed like a little bitch."

"I did not."

"You _so _did."

"Kyla...," I make my voice menacing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, thin ice, last nerve, and all that." She rolls her eyes. "What's it gonna be: hot oil or the rack?"

Why did I agree to let her stay here again?

Oh, right, I'm bound to her by blood.

Fucking life, man...

I hang my jacket on the hook by the door with an exhausted sigh and she follows me into the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I'm hungry too, but I'm too tired to eat.

"So...," Kyla starts impatiently.

I uncap the bottle and take a sip as I turn to her. "So what?"

She merely points to one of the high stools around the kitchen island, and like the whipped dog that I am, I sit without protest.

It's exhaustion... I swear...

She puts the rodent on floor and walks to the sink to wash her hands.

"Talk," she orders.

I take another deep swig from the bottle and shrug. "There's nothing to tell really."

She dries her hands, puts a skillet on the range, flips the knob to medium, and gives me a pointed look.

I sigh. "I told her everything."

Kyla starts to pull stuff out of the fridge and I watch her curiously. I've learned recently that my baby sis is old enough to cook now and while that terrified me at first, she makes a mean scrambled egg and the house didn't burn down.

"How'd she take it?"

I think about that for a moment. "Well, she wants to stay in touch, but her girlfriend is going to have issues with that."

Kyla scrunches up her face in disgust as she cracks a few eggs in a bowl kind of harshly.

"I don't like her girlfriend," she says.

I chuckle. "That makes two of us."

She starts to beat the eggs before putting a pat of butter in the warm skillet, and I consider if I should I tell her...

Why not...?

"I uh, I sort of decked her...," I blurt out.

Kyla turns to me with wide eyes. "You didn't!"

I nod. "She shoved me."

I reach behind my head to rub at the small knot on the back of my skull. "And then she shoved Spencer."

She stops pouring the eggs to look at me incredulously.

I nod and she shakes her head, emptying the bowl in the skillet. "I can't believe Spencer puts up with that."

I snort. "Yeah, well, the way Spencer tells it, she walks on water."

Kyla pulls out a couple of sesame seed bagels and loads them into the toaster before pushing the fluffing eggs around in the skillet. "I don't get it. I've met up with Spencer a couple of times over the last two months."

She smiles at me almost apologetically.

Almost...

"And every time I asked her to meet up, she either _had _to bring Carmen or Carmen didn't want to. I practically had to beg them to come to your show. Of course, they didn't know..."

I take another sip of water to cool my frustration, but it's no good. "Why did you do that, Kyla? I asked you not to tell anyone, especially not Spencer or Christine."

A shot of panic races through me "Did you tell Christine," I almost shout.

She knocks the spatula against the rim of the skillet a couple of times before turning to me with a serious expression. "No, I didn't tell her, and I haven't asked her to come out here for an impromptu visit, but she's going to find out, Ashley." She points the spatula at me. "It's only a matter of time. She knows that I went looking for you and that I'm staying in California for a while."

I close my eyes and sigh with relief, the toaster's popping springs snapping me out of it. Kyla turns the burner off and starts to angrily smear some cream cheese on the bagels over a couple of plates.

"She shouldn't have to find out like that, Ash. She deserves better than that."

"I'm not ready, Kyla, and I'm tired of you telling me what I should and shouldn't do. This is my life."

"Then start living it," she says testily, nearly throwing the cream cheese back in the fridge and yanking out some orange juice.

"It's not that simple and you know it, Kyla."

She sighs and finally nods her understanding as she plates up the eggs. "I know that anything could change, Ash, but your situation is really no different from anyone else on the planet."

I snort a laugh. "Are you high?"

She pours the juice in two glasses. "Think about it. You don't know what's going to happen to you or when. I could step off a curb tomorrow and get hit by a car. It's the same boat we all live in."

She sets a plate and cup in front of me before grabbing a couple of forks and taking the seat slightly across from me.

I can't help but stare at her. When did she become Yoda or the Dalai Lama?

Oh, right, the yoga...

"You know I'm right, or you wouldn't have texted me for Spencer's address after you sped away last night."

I push the eggs around on my plate while I think about it. Really, it is no different at this point. Maybe before it was, but not anymore. And why else did I reach out to Spencer?

I take a bite of the eggs and my stomach grumbles causing me to focus on the food a little more. I'm thankful for the distraction. Besides, Kyla's quiet, and I'll take that as long as I can get it.

And, of course, I spoke too soon.

"Thanksgiving's coming up...," she says so innocently.

My fork clatters to my plate with frustration. "Kyla, that's not a good idea. Besides, you know I always go to Shirley's."

She takes a sip of juice before starting what must be a planned speech. "Shirley will understand. We can take Kate and ride down, spend the holiday with mom."

I'll never really get used to hearing her calling Christine mom. For some reason I still get this mental image of a crack whore passed out in the living room of our trailer. That's our mom, but she doesn't remember that. She doesn't seem to remember a lot of things that haunt me.

Kyla's hand rests on mine for a moment. "She misses you, Ash. You have no idea how much..."

Yeah, well I've missed her too, that doesn't mean anything can go back to the way that it was. Spencer is living proof of that. She may forgive me, but after Spencer, I just don't think I can take anymore.

I take another bite of eggs just to give me an excuse to break the contact. I need some resolve, some time, just... something concrete. Everything's too up in the air now.

Kyla sighs. "Will you just think about it?"

I'd do anything to get her to lay off about it, so I just nod.

She smiles, resuming her breakfast and glancing knowingly at me from time to time. And I know, deep down, that the time I need to think things over really just means one thing: it's all the time she needs to wear me down.

I'm so fucking doomed.

Breakfast has lost its luster so I leave it half eaten and get to my feet. "Text Spencer and tell her I'm home, will you?"

"Tell her yourself," she yells after my retreating form. "And you're welcome for breakfast!"

I retreat to my room, and pull out my cell.

"I'm here," I type quickly before plugging the charger into my phone, tugging my blackout curtains shut, and stripping.

I crash land on the bed, ready to shut out the world when a buzzing sound interrupts my need for isolation.

I turn and lift it to see a text from Spencer.

"You really are..."


	13. Chapter 13 - H8mylife

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Titanreader and Guest - Thanks. I'm glad that you're both enjoying it.**

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**I'm missing those meaty nuggets of insight! Give it to me straight... or gay, or whatever...**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 13 - #H8mylife**

I love my bed. It's a king size Tempur Pedic and no matter how I lay, it's warm and safe and seems to cradle me like a lover. It is, at this moment, all that exists in my world and I don't plan on leaving it for a long while yet.

It's just me and the squishy goodness of supreme comfort standing sentinel against the outside that we refuse to let trespass any further.

And so far, so good.

I roll over and snuggle deeper into the down duvet, releasing a satisfied sigh in the darkness of my cave, my own fortress of solitude.

Superman _so_ had it right, except for the ice...

I have no idea what time it is, and I don't care. I only know that if I let this bought of wakefulness pass, I'll just fall back into unconsciousness.

And that's precisely what I plan to do. I feel the emptiness creeping in, about to claim me again, but then just as I'm about to embrace it, something pulls me back.

I squint down at my feet beneath the duvet. Nothing... just my fuzzy wuzzy PJs disappearing into the darkness, and I shake my head. I must have had one of those falling moments before sleep, the ones that make you jerk awake.

My eyes slide shut and the bed sucks me in further, but then I'm shocked out of it again.

This time I brace myself on my elbow and click on the bedside lamp. The soft light is blinding and my eyes take a moment to adjust before staring at my feet.

Nothing happens and I frown.

Something's just not right but I don't see anything out of the ordinary.

Just as I'm about to give up the ghost and settle back in, I finally see it: movement. It's warm and soft as it glides against my foot, and I panic, chucking back the covers and sandwiching myself against the headboard.

I watch as the duvet writhes and squeaks in anger before a cute, fuzzy face emerges. A ferret is in my bed, and I feel anger bubble up in my chest to release from my throat in an all mighty bellow of, "KYLA!"

She's been trying to force me out of my room, knocking and screeching and calling and doing any and everything to make my isolation impossible.

But my door and the lock on it are as sturdy as my resolve.

I've thwarted her repeatedly, but this... this is just plain dirty.

I check and find that the door is still closed, still locked.

How did she manage it?

She's a witch. That's the only explanation.

I fling it open, and she's standing right there at the door, Kate and Ethan next to her. And they're all laughing so hard that they can barely stand.

I cross my arms over my chest, glower at them, and seethe out, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I'm not sure why I asked that. I mean, there are just so many options. I could take my pick.

Kate is the first to recover. She's smart enough to heed my threats and to worry when I'm angry with her. So she has the good sense to stare at the floor and rub at the nape of her neck with contrition.

Ethan is just... Ethan: sort of slimy, over-the-top, and entirely single-minded. "Good morning, gorgeous!"

He's completely unaffected. I roll my eyes at him but otherwise ignore him because all of my attention is focused on Kyla. She's wearing a smug expression and I want to slap it right off of her face.

"I've been trying for almost _two weeks _to get you out of there, Ashley!"

"I obviously don't _want _to come out!"

I mean, logic...

"Well, I don't give a rat's ass what you want. You're not going to hole yourself up and wallow on my watch."

I channel Paula Carlin. "Watch me..."

I go to slam the door, but they all try to stop me. It's an epic battle as we push from both sides, but I'm outnumbered, and so I inevitably lose.

Kate hangs by the door, hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans as she rocks on her heels. Ethan gets a phone call and holds up a finger to let me know he'll be a minute before walking away. And Kyla bursts in like she owns the place, heading straight over to the windows to let in the incessant sunlight before turning to me.

"Take a shower, get dressed, and be in the kitchen in half an hour, or so help me, I'll bring home a new ferret for every minute you make me wait and stuff them _all_ under your door."

"I'll do what I want, Kyla."

"It's been _two weeks, _Ashley," she says again, as if the passage of time should somehow matter to me.

I turn to Kate for support only to find none. "We have a show tonight. Remember, Ash?"

Ah, fuck... I don't even know what day it is. Has it really been two weeks of dodging, eating take-out, and blissful sleep?

I look around at the mostly empty cartons that litter the floor near my bed and sigh. It's been awhile for sure.

"God, you're such a slob," Kyla says as she pulls her teriyaki sauced ferret out of one of the old containers and starts to collect them all.

Once her arms are full of sticky fur and refuse, she strides up to me. "Half an hour, and leave this door open."

Kate's quick to get out of the way to let her pass before looking to me worriedly. "Ash, are you okay? I mean, _can_ you play tonight?"

All of a sudden, I feel like an asshole.

I nod, not really sure. "Yeah, just let me get ready. We'll get the band together for a quick rehearsal if possible."

She smiles and leaves me to do as Kyla commanded, and I release a huge breath as I make my way into the master en-suite, trying to find the will to care.

It's a supreme effort, but I get myself cleaned up, however slowly.

"You're five minutes late," Kyla accuses as I flop onto one of the stools around the kitchen island freshly showered and dressed.

"I decided to dry my hair. Sue me."

She places a thick sandwich in front of me and I stare at it. Her sandwiches aren't normal. They have things like cucumber spread and bean sprouts in them, and there's not a single slice of meat to be seen.

Apparently, since she's a vegetarian, we all have to be.

A bottle of water and a bag of kettle chips make an appearance as well, and while I won't admit it to her, it's really good, definitely a vast improvement over the junk that I've been just barely surviving off of.

Kate digs into hers, Ethan's still on his phone in the living room, and Kyla just stares at me as I tuck in.

"What," I ask around a mouth full.

"So," she asks, as if this is supposed to be all the clarification I need.

"So what?"

I mean, my last nerve is about to snap.

She rolls her eyes. "Explain yourself."

I uncap my water and wash the last bite down before answering.

"I don't need to explain anything."

She takes a savage bite from her sandwich and I get the sneaking suspicion that she just needed to fill her mouth to keep it from exploding at me.

But then she swallows hard, which defeats the entire purpose.

"You don't think that you need to explain yourself," she asks calmly.

Um, no, I really don't.

I shrug, opening the chips and crunching on one happily. The sadistic part of me is sort of doing a jig. It's kind of nice to give a little of the frustration that she's been dishing out.

She wipes her mouth with a napkin and Kate's head starts to bob between us nervously. We always fight, but this one is making her nervous.

"So you think it's okay to just disappear when you want to, and then you don't have to explain yourself?"

I scoff. "I hardly call taking some me-time in my room disappearing, Kyla."

She nods almost mockingly. "So I suppose that Spencer trying repeatedly to text and call you without response, causing her to worry that something may have happened to you, is just '_me_-_time'_."

She used air quotes...

Oh... I'd sort of turned off my phone to make it shut up, but that was Kyla's fault. She wouldn't stop harassing me.

"And," she continues. "The fact that I had to explain to her that you're not dead is also just part of that '_me-time'_ you took." Okay, air quotes died in the nineties for a reason. "Therefore, no explanation is due."

"I never asked you to talk to her for me."

"You've had everyone worried sick, Ashley: Spencer, Shirley, Kate, me... even Ethan!"

I glance back at him in the living room and he holds up his finger again.

"You wouldn't talk," Kyla continues. "You wouldn't come out; you couldn't even be bothered to just _say_ that you needed some time!"

She shakes her head. "No, you're too selfish for that. You just disappear and leave me to deal with your shit, and if I hadn't been here, no one would even know that you're alive. Yeah, that's not disappearing at all."

"You know, Kyla, I have enough to deal with without you trying to butt in. I needed some fucking time, and this," I gesture to her. "Is precisely the reason why. Spencer wouldn't be calling if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Kate, Shirley, and even Ethan know that I do this from time to time."

I glance at Kate who nods in agreement and Kyla glares at her.

Ethan just holds up that finger again.

I think I may have a finger of my own for him.

"They also know that I'll eventually come back around." Kate nods again, though more reluctantly. "But you... you just can't handle it."

"Because it shouldn't be that way, Ashley! You can't just check out every time things get difficult!"

"And this is exactly the problem, Kyla. You don't seem to understand that I can do what I want, when I want. I don't answer to anyone."

She stares at me nonplussed. "So what, all of your relationships are one-sided? Everyone lucky enough to know you, just has to put up with whatever, whenever, without any obligation on your part to at least be courteous?"

I shrug. "This is who I am, Kyla; take it or leave it."

She stands, throwing her napkin on the counter. "I guess I'll leave it then."

What...?

She makes her way to her room and after a moment, I follow her. By the time I get to the doorway, she's already filling the bag that she first showed up with from the dresser.

"So you're leaving," I ask.

She laughs mockingly. "I don't owe you any explanations."

Ouch...

Okay...

But this is the difference between me and her: I can accept that. I learned a long time ago that it's futile to care because it always ends up this way no matter what. The problem is that you have to start out not caring or there will be some that sneak inside beyond the barriers. And by then, it's too late.

So yeah, it's Kyla. I care... even as much as I hate that I care.

"If... if that's what you want...," is all I can say.

She stops. "What I want is my sister back, but she obviously died a long time ago."

Wow... that wasn't even just a low blow. That was straight for the jugular.

But then... "Maybe you're right."

I mean, I'm not the Ashley with dreams, with humor, with Spencer; not anymore.

Kyla sags onto the bed, her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. That was..."

She shakes her head, and I find it in me to shrug off the emotions that I don't want to feel. I'm so tired of feeling. And yet, it's like I can never get rid of it altogether. It's like no matter what, it's there, lurking in the shadows and pulling me around like a puppet; I've just gotten so good at lying about it, hiding it, and sweeping it under a rug.

Why did I get up today?

Oh, right, obligations.

But I don't want to owe anyone anything.

When did I start owing people things?

I glance over at the door to my room longingly. I could just shut myself up again...

"Ash...?"

I look back to Kyla and lean against the doorframe with crossed arms. She's been attacking me from the minute that she so rudely woke me. I just need to hold it together long enough for her to finish and then maybe she'll leave me alone.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just... you didn't used to be this way. You're so distant and it's like you don't care about anyone or anything."

I sigh. "Kyla, I think I've proven that I've always cared about you."

She nods. "I know. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't be alive."

Nope. Our crack whore mother would have set her in the cardboard box turned bassinette and gotten high. That would have been it.

"This is _my_ turn to take care of _you_," she continues and I frown. Is that what's happening? "But you won't let me."

"Kyla, I'm a big girl. I don't need a mother."

She looks up at me, her big brown eyes overflowing with tears. "I know that you don't see it, that you're independent and whatever, but you're not okay, Ash. If I don't fight to help you, no one will, least of all you."

I throw my hands up in frustration. "What does okay even mean, Kyla? What's so wrong with me that you think you need to fix me? I just wanted to be alone, eat take-out, and sleep!"

"You're depressed, Ash..."

And that did it. "Of course I'm depressed," I shout as if this should be obvious.

I start ticking off the list on my fingers. "Our mother gave me a disease that's trying to kill me; then I had to pay her to help me so I could live a little longer; I may not live anyway; I gave up everything that I cared about to _avoid_ hurting the people that I care about; and just when you convince me that there's hope - that maybe, just _maybe_, I might be able to get some of it back, that I might not die, I find out that it's impossible! What part of this isn't depressing? Are you really so surprised?!"

Her tears stop and she stares at me for a long minute. "This is about Spencer..."

She said it as a statement, not a question, and I turn and slide down to the floor utterly exhausted. "It's more than just Spencer. She's just... kind of, the worst part."

Kyla gets down on the floor and leans against the jamb across from me. "What do you mean?"

I groan.

She shoves my leg. "Come on, just talk to me. Please..."

I lean forward and rest my head in my hands as I brace them against my knees. "Look, Kyla, Shirley found me by accident and took me in, so I survived. And then I kind of stumbled into the band, and I wound up with Kate and Ethan. And then you showed up... and it was almost like having a _real_ life again. I started to feel hopeful, that maybe it was really going to be okay. I didn't want to push it, but you did. You kept on and on, and brought Spencer into the picture. So, I went to see her, and I just kind of... lost all of that hope... again."

That same hand is now resting gently on my leg. "Ash, I don't get it. You haven't lost Spencer. She's been calling non-stop..."

I fist the hair at my temples. "I've lost her, Kyla..."

I know it's ridiculous. I mean, it's been four years. I didn't expect Spencer to pine over me or become a nun, for fuck's sake.

Why am I losing it now?

But then, I never really mourned losing Spencer the first time. I sort of just skipped all of the in-between and went straight for the bitter end.

But now, now that I've seen her, felt her loss, I'm... grieving her.

It's like this squeezing feeling in my chest that won't stop and it's making it impossible to breathe.

God, is this what it felt like for her?

How did she stand it?

"Ash..." Kyla pulls my hands from my head and I watch tiny drops fall into my lap. I'm so very tired of crying. "If you want Spencer back, then stop running from her. Fight for her..."

I start to laugh at the absurdity of her statement. "You're joking, right?"

She clenches her jaw and folds her arms, and I just laugh some more. I mean, that's one hell of a punchline.

"You think this is funny...," Kyla's voice is low.

I nod enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, it's a riot." I start to calm. "Thanks for that. I needed a good laugh."

"What's so funny about fighting for Spencer," she asks bitterly.

"Well," I clear my throat. "Let's see... I could die, which isn't even the worst part because if I don't, and we're together, and like ten years later I suddenly get sick again, then she'll have to watch my hair fall out and clean up after me while I puke my guts out."

She's quietly staring at her lap. "Oh, and then the best part," I pretend to be excited. "The best part is that I can't even contribute to a family. I mean, best case scenario is that I die and leave her to raise our family alone. Or, I could just pass the disease right along..."

I feel the wind leave my sails. "Besides, Kyla, she's happy. How unfair would it be for me to try and sabotage the life that she's built for herself with someone healthy?"

I shake my head. "I can't do that to her. I ruined her past; I won't ruin her future too."

Kyla wipes at her eyes and realize that my own tears have stopped. Maybe that's all that I needed to do: lay it all out there and just accept it.

"Okay," Kyla says. "I'll stop pushing."

"Thank you," I say almost desperately.

I poke my head around the corner to look for Kate, who's now on the couch in the living room listening to her headphones while Ethan, surprise, is still on the phone.

I look back to Kyla. "So, are you still leaving?"

She gets to her feet. "I know it doesn't matter to you, but I'm not ready to give up on you yet."

"Kyla," I groan, pulling myself up. "You just said you'll stop pushing."

She smiles. "Yup, and I will. That doesn't mean that I'm going to make it easy for you to keep yourself closed off."

I stare at her nonplussed. "That's the same thing as pushing..."

"No it's not. I'm not going to shove you in the right direction, I'm just gonna... kind of... stand in the way of the wrong one."

I scrub at my face. "Kyla, I'm never going to be... _okay_, whatever that means to you."

"We'll see," she bobs her head once, her smile unrelenting.

"Whatever," I turn and make my way to Kate, pulling the ear buds from her head and startling her.

She looks up from her phone. "You guys good?"

I nod. "Let's go play some music."

She grins and waggles the phone. "Everyone's waiting."

About this time, Ethan finally snaps his phone shut. "_So _sorry about that! Anyway, there's been a change of plans tonight."

"We're not playing," Kate asks worriedly.

He smiles a sleazy smile. "No, you're going to play alright." He rubs his hands together. "Now, get your sweet asses in gear. We need to rehearse."

* * *

Practice was therapeutic and frustrating. Ethan was like a slave driver, and he wouldn't speak a word about the changes to the show tonight. All he gave us was a new address and the fact that we were no longer headlining.

Jac and Jon were pretty pissed about it, but Kate took it in stride. Personally, I didn't really care. Playing, no matter how big or small the crowd, helps me to focus on anything but life.

Rehearsal was no exception.

Or at least, for a time...

Now, I'm sitting at my vanity and putting the finishing touches on my hair and make-up, but it's hard to focus because that life stuff is back in the forefront. I keep looking down at my phone hoping that it will buzz or ring or maybe stand up, flourish a top hat and cane, and start singing like that little cartoon frog.

But it doesn't...

And it probably won't...

And ultimately, it shouldn't matter.

I worked up the courage to text Spencer and tell her that I'd been having a rough couple of weeks and I was sorry. It was a lame response, but it was the best that I could come up with. There really wasn't a good reason, at least none that I could explain to her.

How could I possibly say that I needed some time to let her go? How could I explain that I needed to settle the fact within myself that all I'd ever have is the memory of something perfect and the current picture of something so much less than enough?

I couldn't, so I took the easy way out: vague disclaimers and another apology.

That was a few hours ago and she still hasn't responded. I guess I just want to see something from her that will indicate whether or not things will be okay, whatever that means.

I know that she's pissed at me, and she should be. She'd left several worried voicemails and texts. The worst part is that none of the things I keep doing to her are in any way her fault. It's all me and my fucked up head.

I just wish that I didn't care.

But I do.

I wish that I didn't want more from her.

But I do.

Either way, it's over.

I need to keep reminding myself of that.

It's over.

We can go forward as friends now, if she still even wants that.

It's debatable at this point, though...

"Ash, we need to go," Kyla calls out from the living room. I sigh and look at the phone one last time before pocketing it and determining to just let it go.

It's over.

Besides, I need to focus on the show, and God knows I could use the distraction, even if it's only temporary.

Kyla comes hopping up to my door as she clumsily slides on her remaining pump.

"You ready," she asks with a smile.

"Yeah," I reply with a sigh, the phone in my jeans pocket somehow heavy on my hip.

We make our way through the house to the mud room and I grab my keys and jacket.

"Did you put the rat away," I ask as I sling the cool leather on and push up the sleeves to mid forearm.

"Her name is Sheezus."

I stop and smirk at her. "Like the Lily Allen song?"

She nods and I can't help but be a little proud.

We load into the Humvee and I scroll the ipod to said song, opening the sun roof and windows, and turning up the after-market Bose speakers to let the bass have its way.

Kyla laughs and we have a good time dancing, shouting the lyrics, and just being ridiculous on the way to some venue on Santa Monica. I even play some Katy Perry and Lorde in further tribute to her ferret, though I refuse to play Gaga.

I have _some_ standards.

What? She just rubs me wrong...

The traffic starts to get really congested, way more than expected, and I glance at the clock on the dash. I wanted to be there at least an hour before the opening act, but the way it's looking, we may only arrive just in time.

As we pull up to the address, I realize that it's The Troubadour, and I can't help but think that something's very wrong.

The Troubadour is one of the top venues in America. I mean, Elton John and Prince have played here... and that's to name but a few.

This place has launched countless, epic careers...

"Oh my God, Ash..."

"This can't be right," I say as I pull around back. "We're well known in WeHo, but not this well-known..."

There is a huge group of fans at the back door being corralled by one long, red, flimsy velvet rope, and they start screaming when they see us pull in.

I pull next to Kate's rusted out Gremlin and park. Okay, so Kate's here, but this still can't be right. I glance over at the waiting crowd. Several girls have signs that ask Tegan and Sara for their hand in marriage, and that's when my heart falls into my toes.

"Ash, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. But I might have to kill Ethan."

I get out of the car, and when the girls in line see me, they let out a collective groan. It's almost funny. I had no idea I had managed to disappoint the entire WeHo lesbian collective.

I was on a roll today.

I grab Al and Lita from the backseat, and Kyla grabs my pedal board, and we make our way to the front of the line. Several dirty looks are given as we reach the behemoth standing guard at the door.

"You'll have to wait in line like the rest." He points a meaty thumb at the fangirls.

"Oh, um, I'm actually the lead singer for _The Mourning After_..."

He just stares at me dumbly. "I don't care if you're the pope. Back of the line..."

"No, you don't understand..."

He crosses his arms over his chest and I swear his humungous man boobs twitch as if they have a life of their own.

"I don't think _you_ understand, girl. I said back of the line."

"She's playing here tonight, meat head!"

If I had a free hand, I'd be swatting at Kyla, because her mouth gets us both man-handled by our arms and shoved several feet away.

"You're not stepping through that door at all now," he says.

The girls in line clap and I try drill a hole into the dumb mammoth's head with my eyes. I don't do well with being manhandled.

I set my guitars down to pull out my phone, and my heart does a strange flutter when I see that there's a text from Spencer.

"Okay, so were your thumbs broken?"

My hands are almost shaking as I reply. "No, but I had to turn my phone off."

Once that's sent, I move to text Kate. "We're outside the back door getting harassed by a bald dude on steroids. Get your ass out here."

My phone buzzes just as I'm about to put it away. "For two weeks?"

I sigh. "I promise you that I hadn't seen any of your texts and calls until this morning."

Her response is almost immediate. "Why?"

"I needed some time alone, Spence."

"Don't placate me, Ash. Why?"

I really want to type 'because,' but I'm not trying to bury myself with her completely. Instead I respond with, "I was avoiding everyone, okay?"

About this time, the girls next to us go nuts again and I look up to see Kate and Ethan step out behind the beast. The squeals become disappointed sighs and grumbles yet again.

My phone buzzes. "No it's not okay. Couldn't you have at least said that... or said something?"

I don't have time to reply before picking up my guitars and meeting them at the door. Pinhead the bouncer isn't about to let us in though.

"These two are eighty-sixed," he says to Ethan.

Ethan smiles at him before dusting some fake lint from his massive shoulder as if to placate him.

"Now, let's not be hasty."

The bouncer's pecks twitch and Ethan drops his hand before swallowing harshly.

"Surely you wouldn't want to keep these talented ladies from their adoring fans."

He gestures to the line where not one of them knows us before quickly changing tactics. "But, if you want to go in there and explain to Cyn why the second act in the line-up won't be here tonight..."

Dropping Cyn's name works. Beads of sweat quickly form on the bouncer's massive forehead. "Um, no, that's okay."

He steps out of the way and Kyla just can't help herself. "Someone's got your balls in her sling, doesn't she, big guy?"

Ethan just laughs off the comment before giving me a dirty look, and Kate, bless her, restrains Kyla long enough to get her through the door in one piece.

Ethan rounds on us when the door shuts. "Are you two trying to get us killed?"

I look to Kyla. "Yeah, Kyla."

She scoffs. "That guy is about as useful as a box of hair and he was power tripping. I'm not going to put up with that."

I can't help but smile at her.

"Well, keep it in check, will you? This is the Troubadour. Getting kicked out of here is musical career suicide."

And that explains Ethen's problem: Kyla threatened his paycheck.

I shove him on his shoulder, realizing that I'm still mad at him. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He grins. "I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, it was really last minute. The lead singer of Killola got food poisoning."

Damn, that sucks.

"So, Tegan and Sara... seriously," I ask.

He nods, that sleazy, self-satisfied grin in place, and for once, I can't begrudge him.

Kate's voice cracks with star struck awe. "Are they... here?"

"They're in their dressing room, but they should be coming out anytime now."

"Do the craycray girls waiting out back know that they're already here," I ask.

He shakes his head and I can't help but chuckle. Poor saps... I wonder how long they've been waiting only to have missed the girls completely.

"They're a part of the online fanclub. They'll get to meet and greet the girls here in a little bit and then they'll be let into the general admission floor before the rest of those standing out front."

Wow, that seems like a load of bullshit. I've waited hours in line before to see The Used, in the rain no less, only to have some twits show up ten minutes before the show and waltz right to the front of the line because they pay a twenty dollar yearly fee.

No wonder the girls out back are so hostile.

Jac and Jon come bouncing up to us, excitement written all over their faces. "Oh my God, you guys! We just met Tegan and Sara!"

"What are they like," Kate asks eagerly.

"Hot," Jon says, to which Jac slaps her on the stomach.

"They're really nice," Jac clarifies. "Really down to earth."

"Yes, yes, they're very sweet," Ethan says. "Now focus. After the first act, you guys will set up on the stage and do a sound check. You _have_ to make set up and breakdown quick. You only have about ten minutes."

We all groan. He's such a nag.

"So that's why you made us practice tearing up and down at rehearsal today with your little stop watch," Kate says bitterly.

The drummer always has it the worst. Everyone else just wheels their rigs in, plugs them up, and plays. But being a drummer can be very tedious. Almost everything has to be assembled onsite.

"Quit complaining. I got us a gig at the Troubadour. This could be our big break."

Oh, so now it's 'us' and 'our'. One fuck up and he'll pretend he's never met us.

"Okay, ladies. Go get warmed up and hydrated. The first act will be going on in about twenty minutes."

He finally walks away and Kyla and I look around backstage, finding a beat-up old couch. We both plop down and I immediately pull my cell out to text Spencer back.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I just wasn't sure what to say to anyone. I just needed to be alone."

I can see Kyla watching me from my peripheral and glance over at her just to find her staring at her fingernails.

I glare at her suspiciously and my leg starts to vibrate with nervousness until the phone buzzing nearly sends me to the floor.

"You came to me and said you wanted to be friends, remember? You can't have it both ways, Ash. Either we're friends, or we're not, but friends don't just disappear without a word."

I sigh and I swear I hear Kyla hum out, "Mm Hm."

I scowl over at her and she leans back in the couch, her hair of sudden interest to her.

"Okay, you're right." I text back. "I promise that I'll tell you next time."

"Next time? Do you do that a lot?"

I sigh and Kyla puts her hand on my leg to keep me from vibrating off of the couch.

I breathe deep and try to center myself. "I wouldn't say a lot, but sometimes life gets to be too much, that's all."

"Again, I ask why?"

I stare at the screen a little taken aback. I mean, she knows everything now. Surely she can put two and two together.

"Because it's hard...?"

I mean... hello?

"No one has it easy, Ash."

I want to laugh and then I want to tell her that I hardly doubt that others have it as hard as I do, but she won't see it that way. In fact, I'm the only one who appears to see it that way.

I go for sarcastic to keep the bite out of my words.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just immature."

Kyla snorts next to me and this time I catch her reading over my shoulder. She tries to play it off, but I know, and she knows that I know.

"Don't you have something better to do," I ask her.

She grins. "Nope. This little conversation should come with popcorn."

I want to smother her right now but my phone vibrates.

"That's true," Spencer says.

What...? That was supposed to be sarcasm...

Okay, the bitterness is starting to seep out.

"Well, I'm glad we finally agree on something."

"Yup. So now that you realize it, what are you going to do about it?"

"Yeah," Kyla says really close to my ear since she's practically resting her head on my shoulder to read with me.

I decide to stick with sarcasm.

"Well, I was thinking that I'd change career paths and become the female Tony Robbins. And then I'll write a bunch of self-help audiobooks that people can play in their cars on the way to work."

"J I have a few of those! Dad gave them to me and I've always felt that they're a good pick me up. I can loan them to you if you want."

Kyla starts to laugh and I just stare at my screen dumbly.

I mean, what do I even say to that?

"Thanks..."

It's the best that I can do...

"Anytime. So, what are you up to now that you're talking to people again?"

Relief sweeps through me. I'm so thankful for neutral territory.

"Actually, my band is playing a gig at the Troubadour with Tegan and Sara tonight."

"You're joking..."

I grin. "Nope. I'm backstage right now."

"Well, I'm out front waiting to get in."

I turn to look at Kyla. She jumps up and down in her seat. "Let's go get her!"

She stands and I grab her arm to pull her back down. "No, just wait."

"Why," she cocks her head at me.

I don't answer her, I just start to text and she continues to read.

"Oh, that's too bad, Spence. They still haven't let the fan club out back come in. It's probably going to be a while..."

"Well, you could always come and let us in now."

"I could? I mean, I just don't know..."

Kyla swats me on the arm. "You're evil."

I grin at her. "I know."

My phone buzzes and we both turn our attention back to the screen. "Get your but up here and let us in."

Us...

Fuck...

I watch the fangirls charge through the back stage area like a herd of angry cats in heat as they're led to the general admission area, Tegan and Sara getting mauled at the front.

I chuckle and Tegan must have heard because her eyes find mine and she winks at me.

"SHE TOTALLY WINKED AT YOU," Kyla squeals.

And I'm a little excited about it too, but all I can really think about it Spencer and this 'us'.

I slump down in my cushion. "Carmen's with her, Kyla..."

"What," she asks, her mind still star-struck.

"Oh," she finally catches on. "Well, duh," she says. "Spencer doesn't go anywhere without her. This is what I was trying to tell you earlier, Ash. She may think that she's happy with Carmen, and maybe in some ways she is. I mean, Carmen's a safe bet. But it's not genuine happiness. Even _you_ must see that."

"Oh, well, I don't know," I say bitingly. "I might be too stupid to notice. I mean, this is me we're talking about."

She rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant. I just mean that anyone who knows Spencer can tell."

"Yeah, even me," I reply dryly.

"Well, you have been out of the fold for four years, Ashley."

I think about it for a minute: is Spencer happy with Carmen? If she's not, she certainly claims to be. She had nothing but good things to say about the sea witch. But mostly, there's one pivotal thing that I lack with Spencer that the sea witch has in spades: trust.

I've given Spencer no reason to trust me since I left her, and I've already fucked it up again in the last two weeks.

And if I were to try to take her from Carmen, that would only further cause her to distrust me.

No, I have to do the right thing by Spencer, even if it's the hard thing.

I shake my head. "I'm not going to try and break them up, Kyla. It's not right, and that's not how I'd want it."

"What do you mean?"

I loll my head towards her in my slumped position. "I mean that if Spencer wants to be with me, she has to make that decision for herself. She'd be giving up all that safety for something that could go south of nowhere at any minute."

She shrugs. "Okay, so maybe she would choose the safe relationship, but she needs to at least know that there's another option..."

I mull that over for a minute before shaking my head again. The same principles still apply. "No, Kyla. It's not right."

"Whatever," she says standing. "But she's still our friend, and if you won't, I'm going to go let her in."

As if she has esp, Spencer texts, "Where are you? They're about to let us in."

"Head to the back door," I reply.

I hold my hand up to Kyla and she sighs before helping me up. We make our way back to the door where buff and bald is still keeping watch.

He gives us a dirty look while we wait. But it's not long before Spencer and Carmen round the corner hand-in-hand.

Spencer smiles brightly. "Thanks for getting us backstage," she nearly gushes. "Tegan and Sara are Carmen's favorite."

Carmen doesn't seem too happy to be here. Scratch that, she's happy to be here, just not happy to see me.

"Thanks," she mumbles when Spencer elbows her in the ribs.

I feel jealousy spike through me.

I miss having sore sides.

"No problem," I say amiably. "I'm glad you're both here."

I'm not sure where that maturity came from, but Spencer seems very impressed.

And that's when I realize precisely where it came from.

"Your band isn't listed on the ticket," Carmen says almost accusingly.

"It was a last minute change," I reply. "The lead singer of Killola got food poisoning."

Spencer cringes in sympathy and Carmen finds her opening to get a jab in. "Oh, so _that's_ why they called _you_."

I can feel my eye twitch, but I force on a plastic smile. "Something like that."

"Come on, you guys," Kyla mediates. "The first band will be taking the stage any minute now and Ash still needs to warm up."

Kyla, being the meddlesome person that she is, yanks Carmen with her, breaking her death grip on Spencer and pushing her through the door.

I hold back my laugh as I hold the door for Spencer. "After you."

The bouncer scowls at me and I just grin at him before leaving him out there alone.

I notice Kate, Jon, and Jac in a far corner and nod towards them. "Want to come meet the rest of the band?"

Spencer smiles her reply, and we approach them. Kate has her drums ready to piece together on stage, and Jac and Jon are fighting over the lesbian wonder twins.

"I'm going to ask Tegan out for a drink after," Jon says.

Jac scoffs. "She'll be busy with me, Jon. But I might be able to convince her to bring Sara for you."

Jon shrugs. "One's as good as the other."

"You're both delusional," I say. "Tegan already winked at me."

They both look at me dumbstruck. "You're full of shit, Davies."

I shake my head. "Nope, total winkage."

"It was probably an eye twitch," Jon replies which sends everyone into a fit of giggles. Well, all but Kate, who looks pale as a sheet.

Kate has serious stage fright just before a show. I've held her hair many times while she's puked her guts out. But once she gets up there and starts to play, she's fine.

"Anyway," I say. "I want you guys to meet my friend, Spencer."

Jon grins roguishly and holds out her hand. "Well, hello Spencer."

Jac rolls her eyes. "She's a shameless flirt."

Spencer takes it all in stride, shaking both of their hands as they introduce themselves.

Kate seems to perk up a little bit. "Wait, _the _Spencer?"

I give her a warning glance and she fumbles a little. "I uh, I mean, um, hi!"

She thrusts her hand out so violently she nearly knocks over one of her cymbal stands. "It's nice to finally meet you."

I glare at her again. "I mean, not finally... just... I'm gonna be sick..."

She turns and runs for the bathroom and I sigh. "I need to go take care of her."

"That's fine," Spencer puts her hand on my shoulder. "I think I should probably find Carmen anyway."

"Okay," I say, shuddering as her hand strokes down my arm maybe an inch before falling away.

"It was nice to meet you both," she says to Jac and Jon, and then, just like that, she's leaving.

I watch her go, feeling a little sick myself.

"Davies is in _love_," Jon sing-songs.

I break my eyes away from Spencer's retreating form in time to see Jon and Jac high five each other. They're unaffected by my glare and I make my way to the bathroom to find Kate.

She's already at the sink rinsing out her mouth.

"How you holding up?"

She takes a deep breath and turns off the water before grabbing a paper towel. "You know how it goes."

I nod and lean against the sink next to her.

"So, that's _the_ Spencer," she asks.

I snort. "Yeah, and thanks for that by the way."

"Sorry," she grins. "You know I suck at subtlety."

That's one of the things I like about Kate. What you see is what you get.

Besides, "And _you_ know how much I hate pretentious assholes."

She nods and turns to lean against the sink with me. "So, you're still in love with her."

God, why does everyone just assume things instead of asking?

I try to shrug it off but that only makes Kate laugh. "I never thought I'd see the day, but... you got it bad, Davies."

"She was my first."

My only...

"We're just friends now."

God, it sounds ridiculous, even to my own ears.

"Uh huh," Kate says. She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Let's go warm up."

She smiles at me before heading for the door, and this is another reason that I like Kate: she doesn't pry or push. She just makes herself available.

I follow her out of the restroom and make my way to the couch area to grab Lita. It's time to do some scales. We'll be plugging right into the sound system, but we still get to use our own pedals, which is great. Hauling an Orange full stack is cumbersome.

I sling Lita on and start to loosen my fingers on the frets. I can't hear any of it because the first band is in full swing, but I don't need to. It's all about location and majors and minors. I instinctively know which notes flow together as I climb my way up the wooden ladder and across the six strings.

"I'd forgotten what it's like to watch you do that," someone shouts in my ear.

I turn my head to see Spencer watching my hands. "I always thought that it was amazing!"

I don't miss a note as I lean in to reply to her. "Well, it was an amazing gift that made this possible for me!"

She beams at me when I pull back, and I mouth the words that I never said enough, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she mouths back.

Her eyes find something over my shoulder and she excuses herself. I turn to see Carmen, Kyla still firmly attached to her.

I may not like the fact that Kyla butts in, but I can't help but find her torture of Carmen hilarious. She won't leave her alone, and I know that she's only doing it to give me and Spencer opportunities.

Carmen slings her arm over Spencer's shoulder and makes a show of kissing her and whispering in her ear.

I feel my stomach churn.

Carmen glances at me, smugness oozing off of her, and I let her have her moment, albeit grudgingly. She won Spencer fair and square.

And Kyla doesn't know it, but there is no opportunity for me and Spencer.

Jac and Jon come over and start to work on their own scales, and Kate starts to stretch. It's not long before we hear the first band call out that they're on their last song, and we all look to each other.

Each of us has a touch of the jitters, but mostly, it's just pure excitement. That's what I love about music: the energy, the focus, the total control even as you lose it completely. It's adrenaline, a drug, and I'm hopelessly addicted.

"You guys ready," I shout.

Jac and Jon are beyond pumped and Kate's pallor is more flushed than pale now. I grab a bottle of water from the economy sized pack near the stairs to the stage and hand it to her. She's smart enough to sip it slowly.

I adjust my wireless sender, check the battery pack, and make sure the receiver and my pedal board are in easy reach. I feel hot, so I take off my jacket and look around for a safe place to put it, but I don't trust it just anywhere with all of the fan club traffic through the area.

Kyla pulls Spencer and Carmen over, bubbling with excitement. "Is it time?"

I nod and hand her my jacket, and we all look out at the activity on the stage. They're just a local band like us. I can tell that they're going over the top though in an attempt to impress.

That's what I hate about the music industry: bands get so desperate that they'll sacrifice the music to get seen and heard. Everyone in this band is way overplaying their instrument, and it's messing up the song.

It's a good thing I'm rich. My band doesn't have to worry about this crap. They know that we'll still have funding whether this is the moment or not. I'm the reason we have Ethan, professional gear, the press kit, and our ep.

And I'm happy to do it. This is what I want to do with my life, however long that may or may not be.

The band finally stops posturing, the lights dim, dance music fills the space, and they start to tiredly drag their gear from the stage.

It's really time...

We move out of the way while they clear the stage, and then we each start to set up. I'm quick to plug my wireless receiver into one of the sockets in the floor at the front of the dais and get my pedal board situated beneath the mic.

Jon and I both start to tune our guitars while Jac finishes setting up her keyboard and plugging it into the PA.

I notice that Kate still has a couple of pieces she hasn't brought up, and I help her, bringing them onto the stage so that she can situate everything around her just so.

"How you feeling," I shout.

"I'll be alright, but thanks," she responds.

Once I know that she's good, I check everyone else, and I realize that we're ready.

I click on my big muff - yes, that's really what it's called - and let a chord ring out. It starts low and then the sound tech cranks up the volume until it's loud and ballsy.

I smile into the mic. "Check, check..."

It's almost there. "Testing, testes, one, two, three...?"

The crowd chuckles and I give the sound tech a thumbs up. Jon goes next, doing a few Flea riffs until the levels are right, as well as checking her mic for backup vox.

Then Jac does a few scales on her keyboard, and of course, always last and least appreciated, the drummer.

Poor Kate. At least her color looks better...

Once we've confirmed that it's all good, I decide to just dive right in.

"Alright, West Hollywood! Let's show some love for _The Dolly Rocks_!"

There are a few claps and whistles and I want to laugh, but I just move on. "Are you ready to see _TEGAN AND SARA_?!"

Wow, that did the trick. They shout so loud that I can feel my hair blast back from the sheer volume and force.

"Alright, well we're _The Mourning After_, and we'll try to make this quick!"

Everyone chuckles and I decide to do something I've been avoiding all night: be petty.

"This song goes out to my good friend, Spencer!"

I glance over at Spencer as I kick us off into the song, and she brightens at the sentiment.

Of course, Carmen's less than pleased, especially when she hears the first and primary lyric of the song, "I hate your fucking girlfriend..."

Spencer didn't beam so much after that, but I could tell that she found it funny, even though she was holding back for Carmen's benefit.

The set went off without a hitch, and the crowd was really into it. Of course, they wanted Tegan and Sara, so the energy wasn't as focused as it had been in the last venue, but I know for a fact that we definitely won some hearts by the time that we were clearing the stage.

I helped Kate first before grabbing my receiver and locking up my pedal board. Kyla took Lita to put her away and to my surprise, Tegan and Sara are now standing side stage.

Carmen is talking to them animatedly but Spencer is watching me.

"God, you were amazing," she says loudly in my ear as she gives me a tight hug.

I squeeze her back, enjoying the solid feel and smell of her before she pulls back all too soon.

"You guys really were awesome," Tegan says, cutting off Carmen's enthusiastic gushing.

"Thanks," I say shyly.

I feel a blush creeping up my neck. I haven't felt this way since I first fell in love with Spencer.

Speaking of which, she's smirking at me.

God, she knows...

Of course she knows...

But as I look around me, it appears that everyone knows.

Even Carmen, and she's trying to light me on fire with her mind. Too bad she doesn't have the brain capacity for that.

Tegan and Sara move onto the stage as their roadies finish setting up, and the crowd goes nuts. They start to play _I feel it in my Bones_ and I feel far too amped to just sit on the sidelines and watch. I want to be down in the crowd.

"Who's coming with me," I turn and ask our group.

Kate smiles. "I'm totally in!"

"You know we are," Jon speaks for both her and Jac.

"No way," Kyla says.

I look to Spencer.

"In for what," she shouts.

I grin at her before pointing to the writhing crowd and watch with amusement as the blood drains from her face. But it only lasts a moment. The energy in the air is palpable, and I know that she wants to let it sweep her away.

All she has to do is let it.

She smiles and just as she's about to agree, Carmen cuts in. "We'll wait here!"

She puts her arm around Spencer's waist, almost like a seatbelt, and I look into Spencer's blue eyes, daring her to defy her girlfriend and just do what she wants.

But she shakes her head, the blue fire in those eyes dimming, and I find myself beyond disappointed; not because she said no, but because she let someone else tell her no.

Oh well...

I shrug and take off at a run right for the edge of the stage where I stop and look to Tegan and Sara. They both grin at me, the noise of the crowd crescendos, and I take a step back, making my intentions clear.

They're into it, so I know I'm safe as I leap off, turn, and land awkwardly on their hands.

Some of them get a little fresh with me, but that's okay. The feeling of surfing over this enormous wave of adrenaline and sound is a cleansing experience. I spread my arms and legs, making myself as stiff as possible, and just let them sweep me away.

I tilt my head up in time to see Kate, Jon, and Jac follow, and all too soon, I'm being set down at the back of the crowd as the song comes to a close and blends seamlessly into the next.

I help the girls down from their own rides and we're all laughing as we turn to make our way back stage, but that's when we run into an older blonde in a tight, black leather vest and pants.

Tattoos cover her ripped arms as she crosses them and looks down on us disapprovingly.

Fuck...

I see Ethan come running up behind her only to stop when he sees her, turn, and run away like a scared little bitch.

I knew he'd disown us...

"What do you think you're doing," she asks, only she doesn't have to shout to be heard. Her voice is just that low and sharp.

This has got to be Cyn...

"We were crowd surfing," I say back defiantly, mirroring her pose.

She looks me up and down and there are several long moments of tense silence and scrutiny before she smiles and chucks me on the shoulder.

It nearly sends me stumbling she hits so hard. "You got balls, kid."

"Thanks," I say.

"I think..."

She laughs and escorts us back stage where it's a little quieter. "You guys did a good job tonight. I'd like to book you with a couple of other acts over the next few months."

We're all speechless...

And as if he can smell the money, Ethan finally finds his balls, and pushes his way over to us. "Hey, wait! I'm their manager!"

He's breathing heavily as she takes her hand and starts to pump it enthusiastically.

"Ethan Marks," he says. "I represent these ladies."

She sizes him up and I watch him tug at the stiff tie at his collar. It's his nervous tick. "We'd be happy to negotiate."

Cyn looks to me.

"He's a douchebag, but he's good at getting us shows," I shrug.

"Fair enough," she says.

She pulls a card from her pocket and hands it to him while addressing us. "I'm Cyn, and I'm the booker and manager here. I'll be in touch."

She looks over at Ethan a little disdainfully before turning and walking away, and Ethan stares at the card in his hands like it's a crisp Benjamin. I can almost see the money-signs in his beady eyes.

Out of nowhere, he roughly pulls us all together for a hug and we each fight our way free.

"You guys did it," he shouts, pumping the card into the air.

And with that, he just walks away. I turn to each of my bandmates and we all start screaming. This is the best night I've had in a long while. I feel wild, and free, and like nothing can touch me.

We make our way to the bar to have a self-congratulatory shot, and that's where Kyla finds us.

"Add another to that line," she tells the bartender.

"I need to see your ID," he says and I smirk at her.

She smirks back, pulling an ID from her clutch and passing it to him. He looks at it skeptically for a moment, before handing it back and pouring a fifth shot.

I gape at her. Where'd she get a fake ID?

The shot shoved into my hand pulls my attention away and I look around us. "Wait, where's Spencer?"

Kyla rolls her eyes. "Carmen wasn't feeling well, so they decided to go."

"But Tegan and Sara..."

She shrugs.

Wow...

"To the future," Jon says as she raises her shot.

We all follow, but for me, like a ton of bricks, that word brings me back to reality.

Future...

Kyla puts her arm around me and whispers. "It's still possible, Ash."

I put my arm around her waist and find it in myself to toast to the future and mean it, because even if it's a short one, I have one for the moment.

And I've always lived in the moment.

We knock the shots back. Kate and Kyla grimace as it burns all the way down, but I let the burn and everything about this night remind me that I'm here, and that I'm alive.

I need to quit asking for more.

I need to just take it.


	14. Chapter 14 - You want me to do what?

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Nude as the news - I'm so glad that you're seeing the major flaw in Ashley. She wears her struggles like a crown and has a sense of entitlement with the world. And if you'll notice the last line of chapter 13, she's starting to see that. The more she enjoys herself, despite herself, the more those problems reveal themselves. She has some serious humbling to go through. Thank you so much for your input. I'm so glad to see that the major themes are being correctly received. **

**Son-lyn - :D I always appreciate your feedback! Ha, be careful what you ask for, right? :P**

**Kyla's wake-up call was a must for Ashley; she's only just starting to realize that though. In this chapter, I wanted her to start seeing that she can at least enjoy the time that she has instead of focusing so much on the end. Yes, there will still be angst, quite a lot of it. I want you guys practically foaming at the mouth, but the flashbacks are probably over for the most part. There will be things to balance to the angst though, things that will make you laugh. In all honesty, I thought maybe I'd rushed the flow of this chapter because I was trying to get her through the initial worst of it so that I can start to mend her. I'm glad that you didn't feel that way. As to the mending, it's going to be a long process for both of them. Don't kick Carmen out of the picture just yet. People who leave a relationship to pursue another is a pet peeve of mine because people like that can't be trusted. Spencer has a long way to go in her own right before she starts to break out of the funk that she's in as well.**

**And yes, this is WeHo, a lesbian romance, and the music is indie centric. Tegan and Sara just seemed to be a natural fit. :P**

**I am well acquainted with Dev and Clom. I think that they're fantastic writers. I've read most of their stuff and even left them a comment, which is unusual for me. I have a hard time commenting because I'm in a growth mindset, and most people aren't open to criticism. I definitely don't want to hurt anyone. I have nothing but good things to say about them though. :D**

**Lastly, don't be worried to say what's on your mind. I will do my very best to give you what you want to see, but I won't sacrifice the whole story or force it to jump the shark to appease anyone. Sometimes, I'll veto a suggestion. Sometimes, I'll grab it and run with it, and sometimes, it'll be a compromise on both sides. You've already helped tremendously though, so keep it coming, and thank you, my friend. :D**

**Titanreader - Thank you! I really enjoy writing in the first person. It really makes it possible to grow supremely attached to a character and get to the core of their motivations, desires, and needs. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for consistently offering feedback!**

**Southfan12191989 - Of course the pun was intended. :D I do that from time to time. I'm really glad that you're enjoying it. There's a lot more to come. Thanks for sticking around and giving me your feelings. I'm glad that it gave you a chuckle.**

**Guest - I'm so glad that you're addicted. I enjoy writing it just as much. Sometimes, I even surprise myself. I really want to pace this out and grow these individuals together. I'm glad that it's coming through. Keep giving me feedback. I really appreciate it!**

**Keep those meaty nuggets of insight coming and thank you so much for your input!**

**REVIEWING GIVES ME A REASON TO POST: I've been writing fic for almost two years and I always finish my stories. I always will because I write for me. But posting and putting myself out there is to get reviews that will help with growth. There's just no reason to post if I'm not getting feedback. A few of your have responded and it's been a tremendous help! I'd like to hear from more of you. It doesn't have to be an essay, but I'd genuinely appreciate those few moments of your time. Please tell me what you did and didn't like and why - the why is extremely important - so that I can continue to grow as a writer. After all, that's what it's all about, at least for me. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - You want me to do what?**

The last couple of weeks have been a little... weird. I'm not sure how else to explain it. I mean, everything's just fine, but...

Weird...

And the fact that it's weird is weird in and of itself, if that makes any sense.

I'm having a difficult time pinpointing what the problem is.

I've started communicating more, which can't really be the problem. I mean, it bugged me at first, but then I noticed that I wasn't getting screamed at all of the time, and that was plenty of incentive to continue. And as a result, Kyla and I aren't fighting as much outside of the normal sibling shenanigans.

I also feel fine, physically at least. I went in for my tri-monthly check up, and Doctor Simpson says I'm still in remission, so that can't be it.

Let's see, what else...?

I haven't found Sheezus in my bed again, which is good for her health. I'll never admit it publically, but she and I have sort of... bonded. I mean, I don't threaten her life anymore, if that's what it means to bond.

So no, it's not the rat...

The band is doing great. Cyn and Ethan have negotiated several shows for after the new year, which is only about two months away. So no issue there...

I'm still depressed, which is nothing new. In fact, it's old hat, so that can't be it either. The only difference is that I'm just not wallowing in it anymore.

It's been great for my music too. I've been writing like a maniac.

And yet, things _still_ feel weird...

I just don't get it.

I can't help but think that maybe the weirdness stems from the fact that a lot of things are changing. I'm anxious about the fact that I'm not anxious anymore. I don't feel like I'm waiting for the world to end. I'm just kind of going with the flow.

Even with Spencer... which is the weirdest part of them all.

She sort of told me that she'd be unavailable for a while. I have no idea why, and I haven't asked, but I have my suspicions. And I'm fairly certain that it has something to do with Carmen.

Part of me, that young part that will forever believe in Spencer as the Peter to my Wendy wants to scoff and posture about how she's always stood up for herself, and always will. No one has ever been able to tame her and that just isn't going to change.

But then this older part of me, the jaded part that left Neverland long ago to grow up too early and forget how to fly is just sort of reeling as she falls to the earth. I know it's all a lie. Spencer doesn't stick up for herself anymore. She's not just tamed, she's caged, and what's worse is that she doesn't even seem to know it.

Somehow, these two halves are coexisting, though they aren't doing it very well.

What I'm left with is a confused jumble of thoughts and infinite frustration. I suppose that it's a good thing that everything else has been so inordinately smooth, because I don't think that I could juggle anything else.

Spencer is more than enough.

And I find that I want to hear her voice or hug her, or get mercilessly teased, or just something...

And both parts of me agree on one thing: she's lost herself, just like I have.

But more than that, she's signed her life over.

I just don't get it.

It's so sad...

So, as I sit here next to Kyla on the couch, watching reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I mull over all of this information, but I still can't figure out how to move forward.

Where does forward even go?

It also doesn't help that Spencer isn't answering her texts or calls.

And I can't even get mad at her because she said that she'd be unreachable for a while.

Well, how long is a while?

It's not fair of her to use my own tactics against me...

"Ash...?"

"Hm...?"

"Have you decided about Thanksgiving?"

I sigh. "Kyla, no pushing."

"I'm not pushing," she argues. "I'm asking."

I glance over at her. "And if I say no?"

"Then, I guess, I'll just... cook here."

Man, she's laying the guilt on thick. She's in full pathetic pout mode. Well it doesn't have the same effect now as it did when she was little.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea." I say. "We can invite the band, and Shirley and Steph."

She frowns. "Everyone but Christine..."

I shove her on her shoulder. "Stop it."

She pushes me back. "Stop what?"

"Stop trying to guilt me into a trip home."

She feigns innocence. "I'm doing no such thing."

I chuckle. "You're full of shit, Kyla. Now, just drop it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she faces forward and smirks. "I have no intention of trying to get you to Ohio."

My field of vision narrows as I scrutinize her.

Something's wrong with that statement and her body language... _very_ wrong.

What could she possibly...

"Kyla, no..."

"What?"

"You're not bringing Christine out here either."

She slams the remote down on the coffee table and faces me. "I resent your accusations, Ashley."

"You're not bringing her out here, Kyla."

She tries to stare me down but it doesn't work.

"Kyla... why can't you just stop," I moan.

"Because she's my mom and I'm not going to alienate her. If you don't want to know her, fine. But I want her in my life."

"I'm not ready, Kyla."

"Fine," she says again, this time with a shrug. "Then you can stay here and I'll go home. I'm not going to force her to spend her holidays alone because you're a selfish, little..."

My eyes dare her to finish that sentence and she takes a deep breath. "What I mean is: do you really want her to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas alone?"

Fuck, I hadn't even considered it that way.

Of course, it's hard to think of things reasonably when you're completely absorbed in your own drama.

"No, I don't want that. You're right..." She brightens. "You should spend them with her."

Her face falls and her voice turns pleading. "Why can't we just all get together?"

I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. "If I see her, it's just going to ruin the holidays, Kyla."

She snorts. "You can't be serious. You'd be the best gift ever..."

I roll my head towards her. "If we do this, the holiday will be reduced to family drama, arguments, tears, and apologies."

"So...? Maybe that's what we need: a blubbery holiday intervention."

"Okay, you've got to lay off the yoga," I deadpan, quite seriously.

She just laughs. "Come on, Ash. What's wrong with a little zen?"

I sigh. "I just don't want to deal with it, Kyla."

"Oh my God, Ash..." She shakes her head. "You're really just... _stupid_."

"Thanks," I say incredulously.

"Well you are..." She pins me with a harsh look. "And I mean, really, really, ridiculously stupid. It's..."

She shakes her head yet again. Apparently my stupidity is awe inspiring.

"It's just mindboggling...," she finishes.

About this time she starts to laugh at my indignation, and I decide to leave her on the couch and retreat to my room. But, wouldn't you know it, she has to follow me.

We make it about midway between her door and mine before she starts again.

"Ash, I'm sorry...," She keeps chortling while she apologizes. "But come on! Haven't you learned anything in four years?"

God, I want to shout, 'yes,' at her, but I'm afraid she'll ask what. And the truth is: I don't know what the fucking fuck she's talking about.

So, I just scowl dumbly at her and try not to let her know that I don't know what it is that I'm supposed to already know.

God, my mind is such a fucking mess...

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"Obviously not," I snap.

"You can't run away from it or even avoid it, Ash. You've sort of managed to for four years, but stuff will always catch up to you eventually. Can't you see that by now? Things aren't going to go back to the way they were..."

"Because of you..."

She cocks her head at me. "Well, yeah... I guess." She starts to frown. "Do you wish that I hadn't found you?"

Right now, I honestly don't know the answer to that.

"Do you," she asks again more forcefully.

I exhale. "I don't regret that I have you now, Kyla. But my life was simpler before you showed up."

She laughs mockingly. "Everything would have caught up with you anyway, and you didn't really _have _a life, Ash. You were just... there."

"I did have a life, Kyla. I had friends and my band just like I do now; it just wasn't as grand as you want it to be."

"Sure, you had friends and your band, but you were just... empty. You were depressed and alone, and I could see that the minute you opened your door."

It's my turn to laugh. "I'm still depressed and alone, Kyla, and that's not going to change."

She grins mockingly. "You think that, but you're _so _wrong. I know it's not easy opening up to let people in and emotions out. And I know that you have a hard time admitting when you're wrong, but it's happening, Ash. And you can't stop it."

"Nothing's happening to me, Kyla. And there was nothing wrong with my life when you showed up. In fact, I think I've done pretty well for myself considering."

"Yes, yes, you almost died. It's been so hard, blah, blah, blah." She rolls her eyes. "I love you, Ash, but you need a new tune."

Okay, I'm really starting to get pissed.

"Well, I know my issues might seem insignificant to someone like you, since you've had it so hard..."

"Oh, I'm not denying that you've had it a lot harder than I have, Ash. _You're_ the one denying that it's just not a good excuse anymore."

"I don't need excuses."

She smiles like the cat that ate the canary, and I find myself instinctively preparing for a sneak attack of catastrophic proportions.

"Okay," she says sweetly. "Since you're so confident, I'll make you a deal..."

Oh fuck. I just find myself in these situations, I swear. I don't do anything to deserve it!

"If you can give me _one," _She lifts a finger. "Just_ one_ good reason why we can't spend Thanksgiving and Christmas at _home_, I'll not only drop it, but I'll stay here with you. If you can't though, you come home with me."

And assume crash positions. My mind whirs. The answer is that I'm not ready, but that's not going to be good enough.

In fact... "No reason I give you will ever be enough for you, Kyla. You just have to get your way in everything. Nothing else matters to you."

"Not always, but it just so happens that my way on this one is the best for everyone. The offer still stands. Just give me _one_ _good reason_, and I'll let you off the hook."

My mouth is opening, as if by doing so something will magically come out and satisfy her.

But then it closes, and I'm left feeling as stupid as she claims I am.

"I'm not ready, Kyla," I finally get out, and then I groan, because I know that I've lost.

I always seem to lose, even when I should win. And it's getting really old really fast.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Is that all you've got?"

"Yes, and it's a good enough reason."

"How do you figure?"

"Because if I have to do it, I should be able to do it in my own time."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't work that way. Besides, for someone so obsessed with time - or the lack thereof - I'd think you'd get a move on. I mean, you're gonna die any day now, right?"

Wow, that kind of strikes a chord in me. Not just because of the cold way she delivered it, but because she's right.

There are a lot of things that I've been putting off, a whole list of them in fact. I made it while I was in the hospital but I knew that I'd never get to do any of it. So, I just never tried.

That was about three and a half years ago...

Why haven't I done any of it?

Like, now?

I only have a year left before I know if the transplant's stable...

Why aren't I doing any of it, like, right now?

"Okay," I say defeated. "We'll go home for the holidays."

Kyla squeals and throws her arms around my neck, jumping up and down and thanking me profusely.

And I suppose that I should thank her too, because now I know what to do. And it might just help both me and Spencer.

I'm going to fight for her, but not in the way that Kyla wants me to. I'm not going to try and break them up or steal the girl, but I _am _going to try and remind the girl of who she is and what she's about.

I want her to remember how fearless she is; I want to live an entire life in a single year, and I want her to do it with me.

And maybe, hopefully, along the way, Spencer and I will both remember how to fly.

I need to find that list first. But I can't remember what happened to it or what was really on it. That time of my life is so... blurry.

Kyla releases me and starts planning our itineraries out loud while she heads to her room, and I walk to mine and head straight for the closet.

Somewhere in here is a box...

Ah, there, on the top shelf all the way in the back and covered with dust, is a large, square shoebox that I purposefully avoid. I stretch up on my tip-toes and pull it down to the floor, afraid to open it.

This box contains all of the things that I tried to forget and none of the things that I ever could: old photos, trinkets, memories, my very heart, all of it neatly stored away to collect dust in some abandoned corner.

I know that I'll need to make this quick to avoid the internal struggle, so I fling the lid back.

The first thing that I see is a crumpled up green hoodie. It's stained and threadbare, and there are a few tears and frayed edges, but already my heart is in my toes.

I pull it out and start to rummage through the contents, refusing to really notice the pictures and mementos until I finally see a folded piece of yellow paper.

Before I can get any deeper in this mire, I shut the box harshly and quickly shove it out of site. I can't help but release a shaky breath.

With trembling hands, the paper is unfolded, and I find a short, but succinct list:

Marry Spencer and start a family.  
Bury the hatchet.  
Be honest with myself.  
Make a difference in at least one person's life.  
Record a platinum album.  
Meet and play with Lita and Joan.  
Backpack through Europe.  
Have sushi in Tokyo.  
Go scuba diving.  
Go snow-boarding.  
Go bungee jumping.  
Take a hot air balloon ride.  
Dance barefoot in the rain.  
Kiss in the rain.  
Throw a mega party.  
Attend Gay Pride in San Francisco.  
Go to Mardis Gras in New Orleans.  
Attend New Year's Eve in Time's Square.  
Go on a roadtrip.  
Conquer my biggest fear.

Fuck, I'd forgotten most of this, and it's no wonder; I knew that it would be impossible. Most of the stuff on here that really matters will never happen.

But some of it can.

I pull out my cell phone and start typing. I need to get started.

"I need your help."

And as if I'd said some magical password, the heavens open and Spencer finally responds.

"What do you need?"

* * *

"Hey," she says, looking indescribably beautiful as she walks toward the table in jeans and sweater.

I stand and smile as she joins me and we both take a seat. I would be lying if I said that I didn't arrange this rendezvous for a knowingly Carmen free moment in the day.

Spencer's lunch break...

"Thanks for coming," I say.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," she replies.

"Can I get you both set up with drinks?"

We both look to the waitress and Spencer goes first. "I'll have a water with lemon."

She turns to me. "I'll take another Bloody Mary."

Spencer scrunches up her nose and I can't help but grin at her. "I needed something to take the edge off."

She nods, her body language turning inward. "Is it bad?"

And I feel like an ass. "No, no, nothing like that, Spence. I just need your help. It's not life or death. I mean, not mostly..."

She frowns at me and I start. "Okay, so, I told you that I have a year."

The waitress shows up with our drinks. "Are you ready to order?"

"I'm not that hungry," Spencer mumbles.

"Me neither," I agree.

"Okay," the waitress replies. "Just call out if you need anything."

I give her a tight-lipped smile and then blow out a breath when she leaves. Spencer looks like she's going to be sick with the place I left our discussion, so I hasten to reassure her.

"Listen, the reason I asked you here is because I want your help with my list."

Her brows furrow cutely. "Your list?"

I nod, pulling the list from my pocket and setting it on the table in front of her before tossing the celery from my cup and taking a huge gulp.

I had considered trimming the list down before giving it to her so that she wouldn't know the most intimate details, but then, I decided not to. She needs to know what my first priority was when I left her.

This is why I'm drinking. There's no way I'd get through allowing her to see that without a little liquid courage.

She unfolds the paper and I watch as she reads the first line.

Her eyes snap to mine and again, I find myself hastening to explain things that really defy explanation. "I wrote that when I was first in the hospital, almost four years ago."

Spencer sniffles and holds the back of her hand to her lips as she continues to read. I can tell that she's fighting tears, and I'm beginning to think that I have handled this whole thing rather poorly.

"Hey, Spence, I wasn't trying to upset you..."

She shakes her head and sets the paper down. "I know," she murmurs. "I just..." She gestures to the paper. "I had no idea, and I hate that you had to go through that alone, and I hate that you had to go through it at all. It's just..." She shakes her head again, this time wiping at her tears. "It's just not fair."

I smile ruefully and take one of her hands in my own. "I know, but I have a year, and I want to do this... I mean, as much of it as I can..."

I feel myself blush and she smiles a smile that reaches her eyes.

Finally... I hate it when she cries.

"I want to live an entire lifetime in a year, and I want you to do it with me," I say matter-of-factly.

She leans back in her chair and just stares at me for several long minutes.

She's twitching nervously, and I can almost hear the wheel in her mind squeak as she looks for an excuse.

"Ash, I don't..." Here comes the rejection. I release her hand. "I mean, I have a job and I don't make a lot of money. I'm a PA. I don't know how I could fit this in and I definitely know I can't afford it."

I mirror her pose. "You can't seriously be worried about money..."

She shrugs anxiously. "Yeah, I know you're loaded... but I'm not."

"Spence, you'd be doing this _for me_. Why on earth would I make you pay for it?"

"It's not so much that, Ash... although, I don't like people paying my way; it's not right."

"What about this situation is right, Spence? What's one more thing that isn't the way it should be?"

She sighs. "Look even without that, I can't leave my job, my career, for a year. I have bills and responsibilities - commitments."

"I'll buy you a house, anything you want after we're done. You'll never have to work again."

"No, Ash. I couldn't let you do that."

"You couldn't stop me."

"So now you resort to idle threats."

I take another sip of Mary's Blood, or... whatever it's called. "It's not idle. When I die, you'll be my sole beneficiary."

Her eyes harden a little bit. "Well it's a good thing that you're not going to die for a very long time."

I shrug. "Could be decades, could be days. I only know that money's not an object, I have a year, and I have a list. Now I just need a best friend."

"Ash, you know that I'd do this with you in a heartbeat, right?"

I think about that for a moment, and then realize that the other two Mary's I drank earlier might have loosened me up a little too much.

"The Spencer I fell in love with? Hell yes, without a doubt. But you...?" I shake my head. "I don't know. I mean, will Carmen let you?"

Wait? What did I just say?

And why doesn't she seem offended?

"Carmen won't like it, but I'll decide for myself." She says carefully. "That's actually where I've been for the last two weeks. She and I went on a couples retreat in Idlewylde to try and work through some things. She's coming to terms with the fact that you and I are friends and that she can't control my choices or interactions. Besides, she's only like that with _you_..."

"Great," I say, taking another hardy draft from the glass.

I mean, the last thing I want to hear is how she and Carmen are reconnecting. In fact, I think I need another drink seeing as how this one is empty.

I raise my hand to the waitress and hold up the glass. She nods and Spencer seems worried.

"Ash, you don't normally day drink. Are you okay?"

I giggle because it makes my face feel weird. "I don't normally spill my guts to the love of my life only to have her tell me that my dying wishes are too expensive."

The giggle becomes a laugh. "Actually, it's kind of funny when I think about it in those terms."

She's not laughing.

In fact, she looks stunned.

Why isn't she laughing?

"Ash, I- I mean, I wasn't-"

I wave a dismissive hand. "No, it's okay. I get it."

The waitress shows up and I down the drink before throwing some bills on the table.

"Thanks for coming, Spence."

I grab the list and shove it into my pocket before turning to leave. My car is in the paid parking area of the parking garage across the street, but I think I'm going to walk and try to clear my head.

It's feeling murky...

I start walking, not really paying attention to which direction I should be going, but I only get a couple of feet when Spencer shows up again.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of chasing you, Ashley."

I stare straight ahead. "Then don't, Spencer. I'm not twisting your arm."

She's indignant with that. "You know, Carmen's just worried that I'm going to get hurt with you, and I have to say, everything you've been doing to push me away only validates her theory."

That stops me dead in my tracks.

Pardon the pun...

"Yeah, I've been pushing you away, Spence. I only just asked you to spend a year with me, quite possibly my last one, and the best lie you could come up with was money."

"I'm scared," she says.

I frown. "Of what, the bungee jumping?

She chuckles. "No... well, yes, but that's not what I mean." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm scared that Carmen's right, that you'll hurt me. And I'm also scared that if I push too much with her right now, I'll lose her."

I sigh and nod. "At least that makes sense. That money shit was going to give me hives."

She laughs. "I think it's the alcohol that's giving you hives."

"Nah..." I step closer to her and lean in. "I may be a lightweight, but I'm a happy drunk."

We both chuckle and it feels good in this moment. There's a slightly chilled, California-winter breeze that moves thin tendrils of honey-hued gold around her head where they catch the sunlight like a halo, and I find myself licking my lips as I stare at hers.

Even over the sounds of traffic and commuters, I can hear her breath hitch.

But she steps back and I sigh, the moment as gone as it was perfect.

I feel more clear-headed though.

"Look, Spence, talk to Carmen and think it over. I don't plan to start until after the New Year, so..." I shrug. "Just let me know..."

She smiles and agrees. "Okay, thanks for understanding."

I sigh. "I don't understand, Spence. Like I said, this version of you isn't like the old one. You've lost your passion and your fire. And what's really tragic about that, is if you hadn't, you, right now, would be even better than either version, maybe both put together."

She seems speechless and I'm all out of words for the day. I feel like I've overspent my quota, at least of the overly honest ones.

"Later, Spence..."

"Later," she says, and I continue walking, leaving her there on any street corner in LA and hoping that she doesn't think about it too much.

I know that being rash and impulsive is generally a bad thing, and even harder for her specifically, but sometimes, you just have to jump in with both feet.

And with or without her, that's what I plan to do.


	15. Chapter 15 - Those poor, delicious birds

**See part 1 for disclaimers. **

**Titanreader - This feedback makes me very happy. You can't really trust the picture that either Ash or Spencer paint in regards to Carmen. And the reason that this is important to me is because I want you, the reader, to make up your own mind about Carmen based off of what you actually see her do and say, rather than what either of our girls would have you believe. And, I want you to determine if you like her or hate her for the wrong reasons - your bias, or for the right reasons - she deserves it. Yes, you're going to get to know Carmen personally to make a more educated decision. :P **

**I'm on twitter at vanginawig1 or you can email me through vaginawig at yahoo dot com.**

**I HAVE CREATED A BLOG: fictionforlesbians dot wordpress dot com. I may or may not stop posting here.**

**I got one feedback this week. What's up? Are you guys not liking the direction of the story?**

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Those poor, delicious birds...**

Well, I fought it as long as I could, but I suppose that I always knew that I'd wind up back here in Ohio where it's mercilessly cold and overwhelmingly memorable.

The first time Mr. C brought me here I was in awe. I thought that Wickliffe was the big city, and I fell in love with that busy life right then and there.

But now, now I see Wickliffe for what it really is, and as far as city's go, it's pathetic.

Either way, as I travel these slick streets yet again, I'm overcome with nostalgia, with this aching sense of home even as I feel like a complete stranger.

It's like I'm in someone else's memories, completely detached though somehow privy to every secret.

And because of this, this small city feels immense.

I'm a little overwhelmed.

Okay, a lot overwhelmed, like I maybe know too much about this place. I know that if I were to turn left here, we'd be headed for the mall and even further the lake. And I know that if I take a right there, I'll find myself at Aiden's house.

But my path is forward...

Maybe I'm not so out of sorts because of what I know, but because this place knows me too well. It's sort of mocking me, laughing at me, telling me that it knew that I'd come back eventually because it has everything that I never wanted to need, but always did.

And now that Kyla and I are pulling up to a familiar curb, I really feel what it means to be back here.

It's panic.

"You okay," Kyla asks.

I release a pent up breath. "I don't... know."

She smiles reassuringly at me and pats me on the leg. "It'll be fine; you'll see."

I don't really believe her, but I'm here. There's no going back now.

We both step out of the rental car and the extreme cold sends its fingers slithering down my spine. I don't remember this part, or I'm just not used to it anymore.

It's fucking freezing...

Kyla, the little shit, is in her element. She goes straight for the animal in the cage in the backseat without even a gasp while I have to fight to keep my teeth from chattering.

I take my first hesitant look at the house that hasn't changed one little bit. It just looks... smaller, somehow.

I see something out of the corner of my eye and find my back slumped against the driver's side door as the shadowy figure of a young Spencer walks by holding my equally young hand.

They're innocent, and sweet, and so much in love, and somehow immortal even as they're already long passed. My young ghost looks at me over her shoulder and smiles as if she knows something that I don't.

I blink my eyes to be sure that I'm not losing my mind, and just as quickly as they appeared, they're gone, like the heat rising from my mouth and evaporating on the icy air.

My heart is beating like a wrecking ball against my ribs. I know I'm just wigging myself out, getting caught up in it all like a net.

And that's precisely how I feel: trapped.

I'm not just visiting the graveyard of my youth; I'm digging up ghosts and flirting with their memories, with their pain.

I can't really help it though. I spent the best years of my life between these two houses, with this one beautiful girl who sort of stole my heart.

Or I gave it willingly; I don't quite remember.

Either way, this was my world, _she_ was my world, the same world that I'd set fire to in my mind. So why am I here sifting through the Ashes?

That's all that's left, right? It's all just ash...

"Ash, come help me."

Kyla's voice startles me and I nearly slip and face plant off of the cub. I feel like bambi on the frozen lake, all feet and clumsiness, but I make it to the trunk in relatively one piece.

I immediately regret it because Kyla immediately starts to load me up with luggage.

I can't really complain about it though. Most of it's mine.

I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality...

And man, they're heavy...

I only narrowly avoid getting decapitated as Kyla slings a strap over my head, and I feel like a slug as I start to waddle towards the house.

God, this house...

I don't want to be here. I don't want to deal with any of this, but I only have a year to set things right. And then from there, who knows? I can only work with what I can see, and all I can see is twelve months...

It's not enough.

So, I take one step, and then another, and just focus on left and right, avoiding the call to look out over my childhood and feel anymore haunted than I already do.

But I feel it anyway, and before I know it, I'm at the door and I'm not really sure what to do. My muscles almost went for the handle, but then this isn't my house anymore.

Which is most appropriate: walking in like I always have or ringing the doorbell, which I've never done?

Kyla comes to the rescue on this dilemma, sliding her key in the lock and opening the door.

"Mom," she calls out. "We're home!"

I feel my stomach swim a little at how... domestic it all seems. It's as if Kyla and I just stepped out to run to the store for a gallon of milk, not four years without a word, without understanding, without anything, just... without.

But then there she is, slightly older, the hair at her temples graying, and the sharpness of her eyes even more severe as she gives me the once over.

I set the bags down by the door and shut it, but I'm not really sure what to do from this point. Something in the way she's looking at me makes me feel... unwelcome.

She steps up to me and gives me a short, jilted, but bruising hug before holding me at arm's length.

"Ashley," is all that she says.

And then there's a tight-lipped smile, one that almost looks like she's holding something in or maybe keeping something out, but then I just can't really tell.

Christine was always so elusive to me, so complicated in her blatant simplicity.

I watch curiously as she abandons me to hug Kyla. She's so different with Kyla, so much warmer, her smile reaching those severe eyes and softening them.

There's love in that embrace, in that countenance, and I know that she used to hug me that way.

But I also intrinsically know that she'll never hug me like that again.

Christine just may be worse than Spencer in some ways.

"Come along then. It's late and I know you're both probably tired and a jet lagged. Your rooms are ready for you."

Christine picks up Kyla's bags, leaving me over encumbered yet again, and I follow the chatty twosome up the stairs.

Christine escorts Kyla to her room, which looks different, but it's the same in so many ways. It's just the older version of what I remember.

They chat amiably and Kyla introduces Christine to Sheezus, and I begin to feel like an intruder as I watch them interact. I feel like I shouldn't be here.

But there's nothing that I can do about that anymore. I'm here. It's done.

I guess I can just make myself scarce. Besides, I'm as excited as I am sick to see my room.

I leave them to get reacquainted, not that they really noticed me anyway, and make my way to the familiar door, cracking it slowly, apprehensively, only to find that it doesn't matter.

This is just a guest room: plain, stark, and almost clinical in its minimalistic lack of character. It's been stripped and gutted, and I find myself slumping onto the foot of the utilitarian bed and dumping the luggage at my feet.

This room is like a tombstone or a monument to the fact that I died...

This is no one's room.

And this is no longer my home.

I want to be offended, but I can't. I left... of my own freewill, and in so many ways, I did die. But there were so many things that I would have taken with me if I could, so many things that had been left in haste due to discriminate space.

Is all of that lost?

I have to remind myself that it shouldn't matter.

There's no way that I could bring myself to look at it anyway, to endure it, even if were still here.

But it _does_ matter, even when it shouldn't. I feel it like a pang in my guts, another loss, another hole. I need to know that it's all still here, somewhere, proving that my memories aren't fiction, that there was something filling that void at one time.

That I wasn't always empty like this...

I hear someone approach the doorway. "It's all gone."

Kyla comes in and sits next to me. "She wouldn't even open the door in here for about a year, and then one day, she just cleaned it out."

I want to ask why, but then I already know on some sad, fundamental level.

"Did she get rid of it all?"

Kyla shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't ask her. I was pretty mad at you too."

I snort a mirthless laugh. "Oh well. It was just useless stuff."

"It was your _life_," Kyla disagrees.

I glance over at her. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Whatever, Ashley." She stands. "You're not dead. I really wish you'd just get that through your head."

I nod. "You're right. I have a year."

"You don't know that either," she says irritably. "You could outlive us all. Why don't you focus on that?"

"It's too dangerous, Kyla."

"Living is too dangerous, because you might die...," she deadpans. "But then you think you're going to die anyway, so what have you got to lose?"

"It's not me who stands to lose anything, Kyla, it's everyone else. Why can't you understand that limiting my impact on their lives is the only way to protect them?"

"I _do_ get that, Ash; I just don't _agree_ with it."

"How do you not _agree_ with it?"

"Because it sucks either way! I mean, look around you, think about everything, about Spencer. How do _you_ not get _that_?"

"No, I do; I do get it..."

"Then give up on the other bullshit, please? This circular discussion is exhausting."

"Kyla, I can't count on something I may not get. Yes, it's exhausting, but if I let it go, the minute that I do..."

"It'll come and bite you in the ass," she sighs out. "I know."

"Okay, so we're agreed. I'm here, and I'm trying. What more do you want from me?"

She smiles at me. "I know you are, and I don't need anything else."

I look at her disbelievingly.

"Right now," she amends. "Thank you, Ash."

I smirk. "Don't thank me yet. I mean, did you see Christine's face? It was like I'm just random person you brought home for the night."

"What did you expect: a parade, balloons, and dancing oompa loompas?"

I crinkle my nose. "Oompa loompas would have been pretty cool."

She chuckles. "It's late. She probably didn't want to bombard you."

I frown. "I don't see why you wanted this so badly. She's obviously coped with my absence just fine."

Kyla shakes her head. "Just give her some time, Ash. Trust me on this. She feels more than she's letting on."

I shrug. "You know her better than I do."

"Yeah, I do." She gets up with a groan and makes her way back to the door.

I laugh at how old she seems.

"I'm just tired," she says bitingly. "You know where everything is. I'm gonna turn in."

I stand abruptly in this barren room and call out to her, though I'm not even sure why.

It startles us both.

She turns with a curious look on her face. "Yeah?"

I glance around me looking for something to say while my fingers fidget uncontrollably. I just feel out of place, and if I'm honest with myself, I'm scared. But I can't say those things. I'm surprised that I even allow myself to feel them.

But then, I don't have control over feeling things. If I did, I'd be stumbling through life like a belligerent drunk...

Kyla sighs, and I swear, it's like she can read my mind. "You can sleep with me tonight, but it's still a full sized bed and I still don't like to cuddle."

I release a weary breath.

"And bring your own blanket. I'm not sharing mine," she says as she leaves.

"Always a blanket hog," I call out, grabbing a tee shirt and toiletries from one of my suitcases.

"You're one to talk," she rejoins from down the hallway.

I smile as I step across to the bathroom and go through my nightly ritual in a bit of a daze. I feel like I'm sixteen again.

Once scrubbed, groomed, and changed, I drop everything back in the spare room and grab the quilt from the end of the bed before making my way towards Kyla's room.

The door to Christine's room is closed but there's a light on inside spilling out under the door. I find myself stopping and stepping close just to listen, I guess - just to reach out to her, even if she doesn't know it or care to reciprocate it.

There's not a sound inside, and I consider knocking, though I'm not sure why. I don't have anything to say, and she obviously has nothing to say to me either. She didn't even question what happened to me. It's like she doesn't really care.

I can't begrudge her that. In fact, that's what I wanted when I left, right?

I release a breath and decide to just let it go. If she hates me, then all the better for her when this is over.

I reach Kyla's room and find her already hanging half-on, half-off of the bed like a limp rag. Sheezus is in Squishy's old cage, laying equally as limp on the top shelf with her head lolling over the edge.

These two so much alike... lunatics that sleep soundly.

"You asleep," I ask lowly as I spread the quilt on my side of the bed.

"Not yet," she responds, her voice muffled and smushed against her pillow.

"What did you tell Christine when you called," I ask quietly as I click off the lamp and crawl in.

She rolls onto her back and looks over at me. "Why?"

I throw my right arm behind my head and try to get comfortable. Her mattress was always lumpy in my opinion.

"She didn't have any questions," I say.

Kyla yawns. "I told you, Ash. She was probably just tired."

"Just humor me..."

She pulls her covers up to her neck. "All I told her is that I found you and that you wanted to come home and see her."

"You lied to her," I say.

She shakes her head sleepily. "No, you _did_ want to come home and see her. You were just scared. You aren't fooling me, Ashley."

I exhale heavily and stare at the ceiling.

She reaches over and pats me on the arm. "Just give her some time, Ash. We'll be here for a month. She'll come around."

A month...

I shiver.

A month in that room that feels like a tomb...

In this house that's haunted...

With loss everywhere I look and in everything that I see...

This is precisely why I didn't want to do this, but it's too late.

I have to get through Thanksgiving and Christmas as a stranger in a strange land.

I glance over Kyla whose breathing has evened out in sleep, and realize that at least I have one thing to hold onto that might not kill me if I can survive the ride.

She's frustrating, and pushy, and bossy... and God help me, it reminds me of Spencer.

But then, everything seems to in this place.

In any place.

I scrub at my face, knowing that I won't sleep well this night, but rolling over to make a concentrated effort. I have a month to brave in this Factory of Terror, and I can't remember why I used to love a good scare.

I guess, maybe, I don't have that rational mind to keep me safe this time. The tableaus are real, the haunted calls and screams all coming from inside, and Azreal has been nipping at my heels since before my high school graduation.

I have no idea how I'm going to wade through it all and find freedom, how I'm going to escape his bony hand and sickle.

And maybe I can't...

And maybe that's okay...

I feel something warm tickle against my nose and reach up to swipe at the irritation. My hand comes away wet and I close my eyes.

For fuck's sake, I don't want to cry anymore. I don't understand why this happens so often. I'm not freaking out or anything. It just keeps happening...

But then I guess I really do know why: I don't want to die.

And even though I have to, I don't want to do it alone.

I guess those emotions are going to come out of me whether I want them to or not.

As much as I hate them, I understand that they're necessary. I have no idea how to reconcile what I want with what should happen, and that problem is so overwhelming that I can't contain it.

I mean, it's selfish to come back here, to crawl back into these lives, just to leave them again.

But I only have a year.

And a list.

Now if I could just catch a break or get some sleep, whatever comes first.

* * *

Of course, I didn't sleep well. I was up before the sun and I've been sitting outside on the back porch ever since, letting the cold seep into me or out of me. I can't really tell which way it goes.

It's foggy and gray outside, and yet I feel it on the inside. It's like I'm on some kind of precipice, or maybe just the edge of an abyss.

I have no idea what happens when I jump. And that wouldn't be so bad, but then I'm not sure why I need to jump in the first place.

What's the goal here?

I can't piece anything together, so what do I do when I'm confused and can't run?

I clumsily play Al with numb fingers, begging him to help.

I'm playing pretty furiously too, almost desperately, despite my inability to really feel the strings. So, I guess that it should come as no surprise that I've drawn some attention with all of my noise.

"Ash," he says in that voice that tells me one glaring thing: neither time nor pain have spoiled him at all, not even with me.

Man, it's strange to see him standing there, staring at me with those kind eyes, and a genuine smile.

"Get over here," he orders.

And I do, and he hugs me, the full kind that he gives out like Halloween Candy, and I can't help but hug him back. It feels so good to find a memory that doesn't make me feel like I'm committing hara-kiri.

I feel inordinately warm by the time that he pulls back and holds me at arms-length.

"You're a sight for sore eyes."

I can't help but smile at him. "I've missed you too, Mr. C."

"You're freezing." He says. "Come on. I have just the thing."

He wants to talk to me, and I'm not going to fight him, because whether I'll admit it or not, I've missed him too. If anyone asks I've just missed his cooking. And I know for a fact that food is what's in store for me.

But then, as we get closer to the back door, I feel myself slowing, amazing foodlike goodies somehow not enough incentive to brave that place.

I don't want to go in there. I really don't want to deal with Paula or Glen, if he's even still here.

I now realize that I have no idea what's happened to these people who used to call me family, but then hated me for loving their daughter and sister.

Mr. C notices my apprehension and reassures me. "No one's home. It's just us for now. The others won't start showing up until later tonight."

I nod, following him inside, the fact that nothing's changed hitting me solidly in the face as I look at the kitchen that I practically grew up in. It even smells exactly the same.

Mr. C walks up to the stove, and for a moment, I can see the ghosts of my young life again, fighting with spoons while they make a mess on their hideous aprons.

Well, only I got the hideous apron.

And if I could have done it all over again, I definitely would have kissed Spencer like her apron told me to dozens of time.

God, I feel like I can reach out and wipe the smudge from her youthful cheek, but then she's gone, faded, over.

It's all over.

And all that's left is the ghost of a memory.

Just Ash...

"Have you had breakfast, Ash?"

"Uh, no, but I'm not hungry..."

I knew that he wouldn't hear that, but I had to uphold pretenses. There is no greater joy for him than feeding the unwilling.

"Nonsense. Sit," he orders, pointing to a stool at the island. I comply, setting Al against the wall while he starts to drip some left-over batter into a skillet.

"Puppies okay?"

I laugh and shake my head at the absurdity of it all. "Yeah, Mr. C. Puppies are fine."

'Puppies' is a loose interpretation. The man's a God in the kitchen, but as an artist... his 'puppies' look more like misshapen amoebas with eyes.

They're totally tasty though...

"So," he says casually. "How have you been?"

I sigh. As far as the whole 'explaining away four years' conversation starters go, he's adept at making it seem less painful. But, I just don't want to have it at all.

I'd rather keep living in this fantasy land where I never left and nothing's hard.

"I've been... fine," I say. "How's everyone else?"

Was that a smooth way of deflecting?

Well, he's moving on...

"Let's see," he replies. "Glen and Madison got pregnant right after graduation." He shakes his. "Well, little MacKenzie was actually conceived _at _graduation, but..."

I cover my ears. "I don't need those kinds of details, Mr. C."

He smiles at me and flips one of the road-killed puppies onto a plate before starting to pour another.

"Paula insisted that they get married, so they did. They just recently separated though."

He checks the edges of the new pancake before carefully flipping it. "Clay and Chelsea are getting married next fall. They've been waiting to graduate from college."

He grins at me. "In fact, Chelsea will finally be home from France for good this Christmas. She'll be thrilled to see you." His grin melts into a frown. "You're staying through Christmas, aren't you?"

I nod, swallowing a little at the can of worms his expectant eyes are opening.

I'll have to face them all...

He plates a third pancake and starts to ladle some awesome looking fruit sauce on top. "So, that's pretty much it."

Odd, he didn't mention Mrs. C or Spencer...

He sets the plate, a fork, and a can of reddi-whip in front of me, and I feel my stomach rumble as I pop the top and start to slather the whole confection in white, yummy goodness.

He laughs at my mound of topping. "I see little has changed with your culinary habits."

"Why change something that's perfect?"

"Indeed," he agrees as he starts to clean up the skillet.

I dig into my plate with relish. God, his pancakes are to die for...

"So, how about you," he asks, again, _really _casually.

The food in my mouth becomes a lump of coal and I swallow it harshly. "I uh, I wound up in LA."

"Everyone seems to be heading west anymore." He sighs. "You, Aiden, Madison and Kenzi..."

Wow, I had no idea everyone was in Cali.

His voice gets very soft. "Spencer...," he murmurs.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he's almost incapable of saying her name. And he's been wiping that same spot on the counter almost manically for at least three minutes.

Something's really off. And now that I notice that something's off, small things start to pop out at me. There are worry lines around those gentle eyes and his hands seem thinner and older, less steady. There's a droop to his shoulders and it's like the life and light have been sapped out him, leaving him... sad.

God, first Spencer and now him?

This is an utter travesty...

"Mr. C...," I say, and he turns to me. "Does she not call you at all?"

He drops his rag and leans against the counter wearily. "I haven't spoken with my daughter since Christmas two years ago."

Oh, God... Spencer really meant it. I thought that she would at least keep _him _in the loop. He's the good one here...

"She won't answer my calls," he says. "No email, texts, not even letters. Just nothing..."

"Because of Paula," I sort of ask and say at the same time.

Or is it Carmen?

He sighs and shrugs. "As much as I can tell, she's the problem. But we've been going to therapy. I think she's starting to come around..."

"What about Glen, did he ever stop being such a douche?"

He pulls out the stool on the other side of the island and plops down. I've never seen him so dejected.

I smile as I scoot my plate towards him and he smirks as he picks up another fork.

We start to share my breakfast.

"Glen let the gay thing go." He finally answers. "But he blames Spencer for splitting up our family."

I frown. "You guys are...?"

He nods and completes the sentence. "Separated."

"Wow," I say, licking some whipped cream off of my fork.

"Yeah," he says around a mouth full. "I just couldn't stand it anymore. This is Spencer's home. She's my daughter, and I miss her every second of every day. Paula just couldn't see past this one, small, inconsequential thing..."

"When was this?"

"About a year ago."

A year, and they're still separated?

I mean, what's the wait time for a divorce?

"Is it... better," I ask, not really sure how all of this works.

He sits back and thinks about that for a moment. "I think so. I mean, I know she misses Spencer as much as I do, but she's still pretty..."

He bobs his head from side to side as if he can't find a word that's in the middle enough.

"Homophobic," I ask, knowing that there's no middle to it, not really.

He nods in defeat.

"Did Mrs. C run Spencer off that last Christmas?"

"Yeah, but I'll be honest, Ash. If that girl she brought home had been a guy, I'd have still wanted her gone."

I chuckle with him. "Yeah, I know the feeling. You should meet _Carmen_..."

"Who's Carmen," he asks confused before his eyes light up. "New girlfriend?"

I roll my eyes, to which he just laughs. "You don't like her?"

I give him a rueful glare before taking an inordinately large bite in my mouth and chewing it lethargically.

I don't even care about the whipped cream hanging off of my chin.

He laughs and nods knowingly as he wipes his mouth on a cloth napkin.

They always use cloth napkins here...

I clean my own face.

"So, you two are in touch, then?"

Again, he's too casual, almost as if it's forced. But I can see what's going on now. He's trying to ask for information that he's dying to know without giving too much away.

Why doesn't he just ask? He got me and Kyla adopted and he fathered the love of my life.

I _so _owe him...

Besides, I could talk about Spencer all day.

"Yeah, we got in touch a little over a month ago."

"Oh, that's not long."

I shake my head. "Kyla found me and sort of set us both up."

His eyes light up with Kyla's name. "Your sister's a sharp one, for sure."

"She a brat," I say and that makes him laugh all the more.

"She the reason you're here?"

I think about that for a moment, swirling my fork in my strawberry sauce. "She's the reason I even considered it, but I'm here because I need to do this before..."

I glance up at him, realizing that I've said too much. He doesn't need to know...

"Before... what," he asks.

"Nothing, I just need to set some things right."

He's not buying my little cover up but I don't really need to sell it. He just doesn't need to know. No one else does, especially not Mrs. C.

She'd dance a jig on my grave.

"So...," he says, failing at finding any further words.

In fact, he's about as articulate as I am when I'm trying to talk to Spencer.

"So...," I repeat, wondering why he's so awkward before remembering that I'd already figured it out.

"You can just ask about her, you know?"

He blows out a breath and I chuckle at him.

"Okay," he says. "Tell me everything. _Please_..."

I feel my heart break a little bit at the desperation in his voice.

"Well," I start. "I don't know everything about her, but I do know that she's working as a PA at Universal. She's been with _Carmen_," I say that name with a certain touch of venom. "For two years. They live together in a really modern town house."

I take a bite as I try to think of more to tell him. "Oh, she has two dogs: Flotsam and Jetsam."

He starts to laugh. "God, she loved that movie."

I nod in exasperation. One year I considered running a lighter over the DVD for a little peace, but I just couldn't do that to her, not even in self-preservation.

"They're Dobermans too." I continue. "I mean sleek and intimidating looking, cropped ears and all. But she named them _Flotsam_ and _Jetsam_."

I shake my head incredulously. "They're sweet and goofy, just like her though. It's kind of perfect."

We both share a silent, happy moment just reminiscing about simpler things, kinder things. And then he gets to the crux of it all.

"Is she happy," he asks.

I'm not sure how to answer him. I mean, Spencer claims to be happy, but then I just don't see it. But I'm also not sure if I would allow myself to see it.

There's one thing on this planet that I'll always know on a fundamental level though, and that's Spencer. I know who she is down to her very bones.

And I know that she's not right, not normal, at least as normal as Spencer gets.

And, if I know nothing else, I'm certain that she misses her family, that she loves her family, and that it hurts her as much as it's obviously hurting this man in front of me.

"I think in some ways she's happy, or at least content. But I know she misses you guys. I think it's taken its toll on everyone."

He stares out over my shoulder into some void that I can't see.

"After you left," he starts. "She became a completely different person. I couldn't reach her or help her. And Paula and Glen, they just made it worse for her."

His eyes snap back into focus. "I failed her..."

My vision gets blurry and I shake my head. "No, I failed her, Mr. C. Not you..."

His brows furrow. "You loved her, Ashley. You _still _love her. It's written all over you. What _happened_...?"

There's no judgment in his voice or his body language, just desperation to know and longing to fix it.

Maybe he deserves to know, but he'll never fix this. No one can.

I can't lie to him though...

"I um, I was dying," I say.

"Dying," he asks. "Like, to leave Ohio?"

I shake my head. "No, as in _really_ dying. I was sick, so I left, but then I didn't die like I was supposed to."

I shrug, staring down into the red syrup on the plate.

His big hands engulf my own over the table and before I know it, I'm being tugged to my feet and bruised in another hug.

"I had no idea," he says sadly.

God, I feel like such an asshole.

"I didn't tell anyone. Not even Christine. It's not your fault, Mr. C."

"I'm so glad you're okay," he rumbles out, the sound deep and echoing in his chest, and I find it so calming, so comforting.

So of course, I need to get away from it.

And of course, he lets me pull back without a fight.

He raises a gentle hand and wipes some moisture from my traitorous eyes, and I swipe at my nose.

"I should probably get h-... back," I say.

He nods but I can tell that he doesn't want me to go. "Hey, I know it's short notice, but you guys should come over for Christmas dinner, just like old times."

My mind gropes at the air to find a way out of that. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Mr. C..."

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea? We could use some healing in this family, and your return is definitely something to celebrate."

He smiles and it reaches his eyes, and I just don't have the heart to take that from him. He's lost so much already...

"Okay," I say. "I'll ask Christine and Kyla."

"It's all set then," he says confidently.

I grab my guitar and stop at the back door.

"Thanks again for the breakfast," I say.

"Anytime," he replies, and if nothing else, I feel good about the fact that the idea perked him up.

"Don't be a stranger, Ash. You still have the card?"

I can't help but smile at that. "Yeah, I still have it."

"The number hasn't changed," he grins.

"Thanks, Mr. C."

"Anytime, Ash."

And with that I finally exit, letting the instantly cold air fill my lungs and wake me up a little.

God, I feel so heavy, and all of the emotional distress has only just begun.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and Christmas is a month away.

Another whole month...

Fuck...

I walk in through the back door and hear laughter coming from the living room. The sound of it is so contradictory to all of the emotions that I'm experiencing, that I almost want to be sick.

I look through the living room doorway and to the stairs, wondering if I can get up them without being seen.

It's unlikely though; I'd have to walk right past the couch and in the direction they're facing.

"Ash, we're in here," Kyla shouts, and I roll my eyes.

Oh well, another dream lost.

What's new?

I approach the couch from behind and peak over their shoulders. There's a big photo album spread across their touching legs and they're both laughing and telling stories with each photo.

I watch for a long while, listening and trying to remember, but none of these photos are recognizable to me. I can't even recognize the faces, except for Kyla and the occasional Christine.

I don't make a single appearance, not me, not Spencer, not anyone that I know. I realize that this must be the four year gap, and it might as well be an eternal chasm.

I want to listen, to know everything that I missed. I want to laugh at the inside jokes and understand the innuendo, but I can't.

I wasn't here. I can never get that back.

And with each turned page devoid of anything to do with me, I begin to wonder why there isn't at least one or two pictures of me somewhere in that thick tome.

In fact, I look around the room - to the mantle, to the walls, and none of the pictures have me in them. They used to. I remember several in this room before I left, but now... now I realize that not only am I outside of this moment, but I'm not part of this family anymore.

Kyla's my family, I know that.

She's Christine's family as well. I know that too.

But Christine and I are not family despite that commonality; we're not even friends. And she has clearly removed me from everything in this home, even her very heart.

I step back and listen to them a little longer as I feel the blood drain from my limbs. They're so engrossed in their fun that I could indeed walk right up the stairs without so much as a word.

And so I do.

Kyla glances at me once, but Christine quickly pulls her back into the photos, and I find myself letting go of that last thread of hope to make anything okay here.

A year or not, I'm learning that some of the things I'm about to set out to do won't happen.

I need to get used to the disappointment.

This is only the first of them.

* * *

It's been another night without decent sleep. Kyla and Christine are already downstairs. I can hear their indistinct talking and laughing; pots are clanking, and cabinets are thudding as they move around the kitchen.

And me, well, I'm not really sure what to do with myself.

I'm afraid to go down there, so I just stare at the bare ceiling of what used to be my room, but now feels more like a mausoleum.

I could try to go back to sleep and laze away the majority of the day like I have been since we got here, or I could get up and face it.

I glance over at my phone on the nightstand, its digital readout clearly indicating that it's roughly nine am.

It's way early...

I don't normally get up until like, noon...

I roll over and pull the blankets up over my head to black out the world. At least the mattress feels familiar.

I close my eyes and sigh out my frustration, begging sleep to claim me. He must be feeling magnanimous today, because my eyes start to droop and my consciousness starts to fade.

But of course, when one is feeling magnanimous, another is feeling malicious.

"ASHLEY," Kyla yells up the stairs.

I groan and squeeze my eyelids tighter together. She will not thwart me today, damn it.

"ASHLEY," she practically screams, and again I don't answer.

Now, normal people, when they find out that they're being ignored, they walk away. But Kyla is obviously not normal. She may not even be human. I'm fairly certain that she's a sub-terrestrial.

So, what does a Certifiable Sub-T do when they're being ignored? Well, they stomp up the stairs in a tizzy, march up to the willfully ignorant subject, and cruelly chuck back the covers.

"I was shouting for you. You had to have heard me..."

Excellent deductive reasoning skills there, Watson.

"Hm? Oh, were you?"

She rolls her eyes. "Get your ass down stairs. You're not going to hide today."

I sit up and rub at my eyes. "What do you mean? I haven't been hiding..."

She just looks at me, and I know with a pathetic sigh, that I'm fooling no one.

"I'm serious," she says. "Get your ass downstairs."

"Can I at least shower first," I ask grumpily.

And then I have to consider when it was that I had to start asking to do what I want.

What the fuck is this shit?

She stops at the door for moment and then nods her head. "Yeah, just make it quick."

That was a rhetorical question... wasn't it?

And then she's gone, and I'm just flailing. I do not, in any way, shape, or form, understand this life anymore.

I grab my toiletries bag and head for the bathroom, taking my sweet, precious time just to spite her. It's a good hour later when I finally mope down the stairs and enter the kitchen clean, dressed, pressed, hair done up, and make-up just so.

I look hot. Maybe Kyla should piss me off more often.

Being the well-mannered individual that I am, I ask, "Can I help with anything?"

Of course, they both just look at me like I have two heads and then start to laugh.

I mean, I guess I'd laugh at a two-headed me too, but still...

"Um, no, we want edible food...," Kyla deadpans. "But in a few hours, you can help set the table."

Wow. She's on a fucking roll today...

And I don't have to take it. I turn to head back up the stairs, but her voice stops me. "Ashley, don't even think about it."

How did she know? Her back was turned...

With a huff, I take a seat at the kitchen nook and cross my arms over my chest. This day needs to go faster, damn it.

I check my phone several times, but the clock isn't moving, so I resign myself to lean back and stare out of the panoramic window. If they want to do all of the cooking, fine. If they want to treat me like a child and a pariah, fine.

I just wish they'd let me be elsewhere while they do it.

"You can help with clean up, too," Christine adds.

I just glare at the back of her head.

She's still not asking questions, but she's started talking to me more frequently. By talking, I mean that she randomly throws completely unprovoked verbal barbs.

I just don't have any way of jabbing her back that doesn't make me feel like a complete asshole.

She apparently has no such scruples.

I know I fucked up when I ran, but why hasn't she asked why or where? What did I do to make her not care?

And why is Kyla the golden child?

They work efficiently together. It's obvious that they've done this many times, just the two of them. And I feel like I've missed something important, like another hole in my psyche has made itself known.

And I still feel like I don't belong here.

I don't understand why Kyla was so adamant about this little shindig. Did she want me to feel this way? Is this her way of getting back at me?

Whatever...

I turn back to my vigil out of the window. It's another gray day, but somehow the gloom is inordinately bright because of the thin layer of snow that fell overnight.

I hear a door shut outside and crane my neck to see Glen lean against the sidewall of the Carlin house to light a cigarette. I can't help but gawp at him. He looks so different, as if he's prematurely aging. Maybe it's just the goatee...?

And... "When did Glen start smoking," I ask no one in particular.

For a moment, I envy him. I don't smoke, but I could totally use... just _something_ right now to calm my nerves.

Booze, man... I want booze...

"About the same time he and Madison had Kenzi," Kyla responds.

I shake my head. It's just crazy to me. I mean, Glen's a father, a husband, a smoker...

Just then, he glances in my direction and his eyes stop when they meet mine. His gaze is cold and unnerving, and I'd swear that he almost sneers at me. The look he's giving me is like he's just stepped in something disgusting that won't wipe off.

He flicks his cigarette as if he means to hit me with it, and goes inside.

Well, that settles where he stands.

"So much for Christmas dinner," I mumble to myself.

"What about Christmas dinner," Kyla asks.

"Oh, nothing. I was just... talking to myself."

"Okay," she drawls, somehow making the word three syllables. "You never talk to yourself."

"Yeah, well... I'm not exactly in my element."

I give her a pointed, accusing look and she rolls her eyes at me before continuing.

"What about Christmas dinner?"

I sigh. Why can't she just leave me alone? It was an idle thought.

She's staring at me expectantly, so I just spit it out. "I saw Mr. C yesterday and he invited us to Christmas dinner."

Christine stops her chopping, and she and Kyla look at one another.

I frown. "What?"

Christine is the one to actually speak. "Well, it's just, ever since you left... I don't, we just don't talk to them anymore. At all_..."_

"Not even to Mr. C," I ask.

She shakes her head.

God, poor Mr. C sort of lost everything...

"They're separated now," I say.

Christine thinks about it for a moment. "Well, that explains why Paula's never home."

"Well, like I said, he invited us to dinner, but I already knew we wouldn't go."

"Why not," Christine asks.

I gape at her. "Well, you don't talk to them and haven't for years, and most of them are openly hostile towards me... to name a few reasons."

Christine pops a black olive in her mouth from the tray on the counter, and I wonder when the finger foods were put down and how I'd missed them.

I stand to go and peruse only to stop when I notice Christine watching me.

What? I can't eat now?

Fuck, she hates me...

I glance at Kyla at the range for some support, but that was stupid. With Christine in the mix, I'm second hat.

Besides, she's a little preoccupied with that poor, delicious bird. And even if she weren't, she thinks it's all in my head with Christine, that I just need to give her time.

But she doesn't see these moments that so thoroughly unnerve me because it's always when she's not looking, just like right now...

The way Christine's looking at me, it's like she's trying to make me explode with her thoughts.

I want it to stop, all of the torturous jabs and exclusion. The question is how to make that happen. I can't just go with my gut and scream at her.

God, I want to. She's had a couple days now, and I'm fed up with the pissy routine.

Does she want me here or not? Or, is this all just Kyla's naïve fantasy?

Well, nasty glare or not, I'm having some fucking turkey today.

Eat that, Christine...

After several long moments of further unnerving scrutiny, she finally turns back to work at her chopping board as if nothing just occurred. I snatch a piece of cheese from the tray and give her another dirty look.

Ha... I got cheese.

Kyla almost catches me though as she bends to open the oven, and I nearly choke on the little cube.

I splutter a little bit and reach for the fridge to grab a bottle of water, and that's when I finally see the bird that's now fully visible on the stove top. I step closer, to try and process what I'm seeing.

"What is that," I ask as I poke one of its strangely colored legs. It wobbles like a gelatin mold.

"That," Kyla answers. "Is a delicious tofurkey."

No turkey on Thanksgiving...?

"Kyla," I groan.

She just scoffs. "They're delicious and no one had to die."

No turkey on Thanksgiving...?!

"You're a heretic...," I breathe out sadly.

She smacks my hand away and giggles.

"It's good," she protests, picking up the pan and stuffing it into the oven.

Who bakes tofu?

Who eats turkey-shaped, baked tofu... on Thanksgiving?

This isn't a vegetarian holiday, damn it.

Christine's ready to take a pot shot at me now. I mean, it _has _been about ten minutes, and after the atrocity that is this fake bird, it's a good time to kick me while I'm down.

"I think we should go to the Carlins for Christmas dinner," she says.

Kyla smiles at her. "It would be nice, like old times."

Fuck me...

"What," I ask.

"We should go to the Carlins for Christmas dinner," she repeats like I'm stupid.

And maybe I am. I certainly feel stupid.

"But I just told you...," I try to remind her.

"Ashley," she cuts me off. "Nobody over there is hostile anymore. You've been gone _four_ years."

Yeah, thanks for reminding me _yet_ again.

"I doubt they're still holding any grudges," she concludes.

I want to laugh in her face. I mean, she's still holding one and yet they're what, impossible? And, I mean, homophobes can hold a pretty damn long grudge. Like, a lifetime. No, like generations of lifetimes.

"I'd rather just do something low key here, if you two don't mind," I try my best at cordial and polite, despite how very deep this end of the pool I'm slipping into appears.

"We're going," Christine says in that voice that I remember all too well. It means that this discussion is over.

Well, I'm not a child anymore.

And I'm tired of _both _of them treating me like one.

Again, I try calm. I try compromise.

"Okay," I say. "You two go over there for dinner. I'll be here when you get back."

They round on me and I take a step back.

"Why are you here," Kyla asks pointedly.

"Because you pushed for it," I say, knowing it's only a half-truth and hoping to get a pot shot in of my own.

Christine stiffens at my words and I feel worse for it, not better.

Fucking sigh...

"Is that the only reason," Kyla continues.

"I wanted to set things right before..."

Kyla just rolls her eyes.

"So you think hiding, by yourself, away from us, is going to accomplish that?"

"I'm trying to set things right with you and Christine, not the Carlins."

"Then why did you spend the entire day yesterday playing guitar and avoiding us?"

"I didn't..."

I so did.

And she knows it.

She just refuses to see why.

"Well, since you have our little group under control, the Carlins should be no trouble."

"I don't want to, Kyla. What's wrong with just the three of us?"

"Not everything can be how you want it, Ashley," Christine pitches in oh so helpfully.

I just snort out a laugh at this entire encounter and situation. "Maybe not, but I know you don't want me here. And maybe things _can_ be how _you_ want them."

And with that, I grab my jacket and keys, and step out into the freezing cold, shutting out the call of my name from inside of the house.

I don't even wait for the car to warm up before I skid away from the curb and start driving anywhere and nowhere.

I just need to clear my head. This day is going way worse than I'd anticipated.

I drive for a long time, my mind no better, but it's getting dark and I'm tired. I finally wind up pulling into a hole-in-the-wall diner, the first place for miles that I've seen open.

It's kind of reminds me of a metal twinkie that hasn't been updated since fifties-kitch was in. It's completely run down, but it's warm inside and the lady at the counter smiling at me is a vast improvement from any other human interaction I've had all day.

I order a coffee as I tuck myself into a booth at the very back. She's quick to deliver the steaming, black liquid, and I sip on it as I stare into the swirling surface.

I know that I have to go back there, and I know that I can't run away and just forget it all.

But I really want to.

I decide to pull out my phone and play a game or listen to some music, just something to overpower the crowded thoughts in my head and drown them out.

I turn my phone on and sigh as several missed messages appear. I knew it would be bad, and it'll be even worse when I actually respond, but I'm not going to just yet.

I scroll through them, some of them threatening bodily harm, especially the one where I missed dinner.

I just can't bring myself to care. They didn't want me there. It was obvious.

But then another message catches my eye and I find myself smiling involuntarily.

Spencer...

"J J Happy Turkey Day J J," she says.

God, she's so fucking cute.

"Happy Turkey Day, Spence," I reply.

"Did you have fun," she texts immediately and I settle back in the booth.

"Oh yeah, today's been a BLAST! How about you?"

"Oh, it was good," she says.

Well that's a glowing endorsement. God, what a pair we make.

"Sounds like your day was about like mine."

"Is it that obvious?"

I can't help but chuckle.

"A little," I reply.

"So what made yours so miserable," she asks.

"Oh," I start. "I'm in Ohio."

"What?! No way!"

I nod, forgetting that she can't see me, but that doesn't seem to matter to her.

"OMG, hold on a sec...," she replies.

I frown at the screen, trying to decipher what's going on in her last message, but it doesn't make any sense, at least not until my phone rings and her picture shows up on the screen.

I can't help but smile as I answer the phone. "Hey."

"I can't believe you're in Ohio," she says immediately.

"Yeah, me neither."

"So...," she says a little awkwardly. "How's... everyone?"

I grin because I already know this game. Mr. C's already played it, and she's just as transparent. My grin fades though, because I realize that she's going to want to know things that I don't want to tell her.

Her family's falling the fuck apart...

Fuck, I don't want to be the one...

"Ash, you there?"

"Yeah, sorry... everyone's fine."

I know that isn't enough but it buys me a few more seconds.

"Could you give a little more than that, please?"

And she sounds frustrated. Just... fuck this day...

Okay, I can work with this. I have my own drama, after all.

"Christine hates me and Kyla's treating me like a child."

"Ash, come on. It can't be that bad."

"Spence, you have no idea..."

"And there's no way Christine hates you," she continues as if I didn't say anything.

I laugh humorlessly. "Spence, trust me. It's no joke. She gutted my room, took all of my photos out of the house, and she's done nothing but give me grief. She hasn't even asked why I left because she just doesn't care."

The line is quiet for a moment and I exhale loudly. "I'm sorry. None of this is your problem."

"No, that's fine. You can vent, I just know she doesn't hate you, Ash. She was a wreck after you left. She couldn't even look at me, but then I wasn't really all that great either."

God, is everyone against me today?

"Okay, but you at least heard me out and cared enough to ask what happened. She doesn't and hasn't. I'm just wasting my time here."

"How long have you been there?"

I frown. Why does that matter?

"Two days..."

"Well no wonder," she says. "You put her through a lot. Give her some time."

Who's fucking side is she on anyways?

"Why don't you just talk to her," she continues, and I find myself lashing out.

"The same reason you haven't talked to your dad, except he doesn't actually deserve it."

Again, the line is quiet and I feel a headache sparking behind my eyes.

"Fuck, Spence, I'm sorry..."

Her voice is so very sad. "You saw him?"

"Yeah," I sigh out.

"H-how is he?"

I rest my forehead to my palm and brace my arm against the table. "Don't make me answer that, please..."

But we both know that she won't honor that request.

"Why can't you answer," she asks worriedly.

"Spence, you need to talk to _him_ about this stuff."

"Has something happened?" She's fully panicking now. "He's not... dying, is he? I can't take another one, Ash..."

And with that, I can hear the tears coming from the other end of the phone. I feel like such a dick.

"No, Spence, he's not dying," I hasten to reassure her.

"Thank God," she breathes.

"Your parents have split up though."

Again, a dead line.

"Spence... did you hear me?"

She clears her throat. "Uh, yeah... I mean, are you serious?"

"Yes."

"But I don't understand. Why? When? What happened?"

I want to laugh at the absurdity of her questions. I mean, she's met Mrs. C... obviously. It's not that hard to believe.

I can't give her the answers though, at least not in a healthy, non-bitter way. "I really think you need to call your dad, Spence."

She sighs long and loud into the phone. "God, it's been two years. I don't know if I can..."

This time I do laugh at her. "You _do_ realize who you're talking to, right?"

She laughs with me and I'm thankful for the minute brevity. It helps to release some of the tension.

"I guess you're right," she says.

I find my jaw hitting the table top. "Can you repeat that, please? Or, no, can I get it in writing instead?"

She laughs and I can't help but smile at the sound of it. "Yeah, I'm not sure what I was thinking there."

"Me neither," I agree.

She chuckles some more. "God, Ash. How did everything get so messed up?"

I slump in my booth a little more. "I'm beginning to believe that it's all my fault."

She scoffs. "What?"

I nod. "Yup. Apparently when I left, everyone's lives fell apart. I had no idea that leaving would be such a big damn deal."

"That's cuz you're an idiot," she deadpans.

"Thanks," I say sardonically.

"You _do _know that the world doesn't actually revolve around you, right?"

I roll my eyes. "You're too funny, Spence." She's laughing again. "You missed your calling."

"Well, it's never too late," she says. "All I need to do is quit my job, sell my car, get a gimmick - like an overly trained rodent or a puppet - and join the circus."

"Oooo, you want to be a carny?"

"Yeah," she exclaims brightly. "You could come too. I can see your act now... the girl whose head is too big for her body."

"Hey," I say indignantly. "I'm very well proportioned, thank you very much."

"Yeah, well, you're the one who said that everything's your fault."

"Well," I defend. "Literally everyone fell apart right after I left!"

"Some of that stuff would have happened with or without you," she says. "But I can't argue that it hurt a lot of people."

"I want to fix it, Spence..."

"I know," she says softly.

"But Christine won't let me..."

"Give it time," she implores again. "Four years of worrying and hurting isn't going to disappear in two days."

I sigh. "I wasn't trying to hurt her."

"So tell her that. I know that it made it harder for me to stay mad at you."

I grin. "You never could stay mad at me."

"Oh, no, I was always mad at you; I just learned to live with it on a constant basis," she states matter-of-factly.

"Sure," I say. "You just can't resist my charm."

"Whatever, Davies."

"You can't deny it."

"I can't deny that you're full of yourself."

"I'm full of animal magnetism, baby."

"You're full of something, alright..."

There's a quiet moment that feels normal for the first time in a long time, and I bask in it until my phone vibrates and I see another nastygram from Kyla.

"If you don't come home, I'll have every cop in this city looking for you."

I sigh. "Spence, I hate to cut this short, but Kyla's having a large litter of kittens."

"What did you do this time?"

"What makes you think I did anything," I ask defensively.

"Didn't you," she asks.

I'm quiet for a moment. "Well, yes, but just this once!"

She's laughing and I'm ready to start banging my head on the tabletop.

"Let me guess," Spencer says between laughs. "You fought and took off in the middle of it."

My head snaps up and I stare at my phone, worried that the microwaves have given her the ability to read minds.

"How did you...?"

"Pfft, please. You never stick around to finish anything, Ash, least of all anything confrontational."

"Jeez, Spence. I'm so glad you think so highly of me."

"I'm not judging," she insists. "I'm just saying that you're more predictable than my cycle."

And she's like clockwork...

"Well, I have to face the music."

"Wow," she says. "That soon?"

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's progress. Normally you just put it off until someone nails you down about whatever caused the problem. Congratulations for facing it head on."

"You really are too funny, Spence."

"I'm not being facetious," she reassures me. "I'm serious. That's progress."

And now I just feel uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I don't have time to put it off anymore."

The line goes quiet again and I want to kick myself. Not everyone is as flippant about my life as I am.

"So, are you going to call you dad," I ask, trying desperately to change the subject.

She blows out a breath. "I don't think I really have a choice."

"He misses you, Spence."

"I miss him too."

My phone buzzes again.

"I'm calling the cops right now," the hateful message reads.

Shit...

"Listen, Spence, I have to go. Kyla's about to call the cops."

I can hear the smile in her voice. "Okay."

"Text me and tell me how it goes?"

"Yeah, you too," she says.

"Okay," I say, not really wanting to hang up, but not having any options.

Why are there never good options?

"Night, Ash."

"Night, Spence."

I hear the line go dead and quickly type a message to Kyla. "I'm on my way."

"Good," she replies immediately. "Make it quick so I can kick your ass."

I sigh as I lay a bill on the table.

Happy fucking Thanksgiving to me...


	16. Chapter 16 - If 'its' and 'buts' were

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**Chapter 9 - If its and buts were candied nuts, we'd all have a hell of a Christmas.**

I already knew that this month would crawl by just to torture me, but somehow I can still find it within myself to be indignant about it. I guess I just really couldn't prepare myself for the inevitable, no matter how much I knew that it was coming.

And nothing, not one single thing, about my situation at home has gotten any better. In fact, if anything, it's gotten worse.

Christine's crawled further up my ass and Kyla's taken to riding it like a six flags roller coaster.

Look, Ma, no hands!

Ultimately, my ass is getting lots of play, and while I'm not a prude, that's just not a place that I'm comfortable getting shafted. Not that getting shafted is supposed to be comfortable...

But still, I'm rather sore.

I just can't seem to shake them at all. They have this system where they play off of each other: Christine nitpicks nonstop, and of course, I wind up saying something, which then has Kyla giving me a tongue lashing.

Well, this pony feels rode hard and put away wet.

And it's only been a week.

Today though... today is bliss. Or at least it should be bliss because the house is empty. I thought that I would enjoy some alone time to let my ass heal a little, but it's quiet, nostalgic, and lonely. Well, except for the occasional memory of past hallucination. But ultimately, it just feels like a tomb.

I can literally hear the tick of the clock on the kitchen wall as I sit on the couch with nothing to do but slowly go insane.

I tried to play guitar, but I just can't seem to focus. Filling the space with the mind numbing sounds of television or radio didn't do any good either. Honestly, I think that the silence has sapped my ability to concentrate, which then creates this endless loop where I can't do anything to break said silence because of the silence.

It's so fucking stupid, really...

So here I sit, alone, in this oppressively soundless house, my mind whirring with recollections great and small, painful and ecstatic.

And the longer that I'm here, the more that I have only my thoughts to break these moments, the more that I realize just how much I miss Spencer. And the more that I miss her, the less that I can comprehend how I left her in the first place.

I can't fathom that day at graduation, or the last four years for that matter. So it almost feels like nothing's real. Like this is some alternate universe I've just magically found myself in.

Where did I get that strength - that will - to remove her from my heart?

No, wait, I didn't remove her from my heart. That's not possible. I tore out my heart completely.

Maybe the strength came from my ass, like everything else recently. I just can't figure out how I did it.

But I did, and as a result, I've been half a person for all of these years and I'm only just now feeling that loss, feeling just how incomplete I am. And I'm so incomplete that I could run my hand down the right side of my body and find a single long jagged edge.

I want to put myself back together again, to find the strength to be whole. But I tore those limbs away, ripped them from my flesh and broke them from my bone. And these are things that just don't grow back.

Christine, Spencer, and even Kyla - they've moved on. They don't need me anymore to be complete. So how can I do that?

How do I not need them, or at least go back to being oblivious?

I could always try to find new parts, but that would make me a monster, a Frankenstein, a patchwork of pieces that just don't fit. I'd be hideously disfigured. Or maybe I already am; it's all just on the inside, hidden and ugly and malfunctioning in a way that can't be seen and is only felt.

Why didn't I just die like I was supposed to?

Do you see why I can't concentrate? This internal monologue, diatribe, whatever you want to call it, it's choking me.

Every time I try to find even a moment of peace, my mind goes through it all over and over again while the ticks of that infernal clock ring out in this empty house like gunshots.

I get to my feet and head for the stairs, deciding that I'll again try to take a nap, but I know that I'll fail. Hiding, running, sleeping my life away, all of the things that used to keep me going, none of them hold any relief for me anymore.

I'd give anything to know how to escape again, to forget the world for just a little while.

Just as I'm about to ascend the first step, I hear a car door shut. I pause involuntarily as a giddy jolt rolls through me.

They're home early.

I turn back to the front window and peak through the blinds, expecting to see Christine's Suburban in the driveway, but it's not there.

They're still gone.

I let out a disappointed sigh. Why didn't I go with them today? Oh, right, I'm tired of being a pony. And I hate Christmas shopping. I do it all on the internet.

I watch as Spencer steps out of the car in the Carlin's driveway and release a frustrated grunt. I just don't want to be alone here anymore, but I don't really have a choice.

I let go of the blinds dejectedly and make my way back to the stairs, hoping that sleep will make itself possible. But then I stop again as what I just saw finally registers like a lightbulb over my thick head.

Spencer's here...

It's not a moment later that I'm flinging the door open and running outside like a maniac. I'm down the front steps and about halfway through the snow covered front yard before I finally stop, realizing that I have no reason to run out here to meet her.

She didn't even tell me that she was coming.

God, she'll think that I'm a lunatic...

God, I _am _a lunatic...

Just as I'm about to quietly retreat back inside, I hear her voice.

"Ash?"

Fuck, she sees me, in my socks, in the snow, standing here like a fucking idiot.

I sidle up next to the snow family that Kyla and I built a couple of days ago hoping to blend in.

"Ash, what are you doing?"

She's looking at me like I forgot my meds. And maybe I need to start taking some...

"Um... I was just... I just thought..."

I shrug, dusting some snow off of the taller snow lady's head.

God, I'm such a fucking retard.

Spencer chuckles a little. "Well, the snow people are very nice."

I tuck my hands in my pockets and feel the skin on my arms tighten. Not only did I forget my shoes in my haste to see her, but I didn't grab a jacket.

"I'm surprised to see you," I deflect.

She glances at her childhood home before coming to stand next to my shivering form.

"I'm surprised to be here," she says solemnly.

"What changed your mind? I mean, when you texted, you said that the talk didn't go very well," I chatter out.

Vapors burst from her mouth as she exhales a long breath. "That's what changed my mind. Things are just too bad to ignore."

I nod in understanding, but then, I'm like a vibrating bobble head at this point in time, so nodding is sort of a perpetual state of being.

She gives me the once over, her eyes starting at my goose-fleshed arms and working their way down to my feet where she cocks her head.

"Are you wearing shoes?"

I try to shrug, but it's lost in my convulsing.

"Ash, you're going to freeze to death."

I'm glad that she's worried about me because that means that she'll be too distracted to notice that I bolted out of the house in next to nothing just to see her.

She finally grabs my arm and starts to pull me towards the steps.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh," she asks smugly.

I glare at her. Fuck, it's just not fair for her to just magically know everything I don't want her to know.

"I thought you were Kyla and Christine," I explain. "I was going out of my mind here alone. This place gives me the heebie jeebies."

She's not buying it. "But you grew up here..."

We step into the warmth of the house and my feet immediately feel like they're being stabbed by hundreds of needles.

I reach down and pull off a stiff, sodden sock. "Yeah, well, it's not the same house."

I pull off the other sock while she looks around.

"It looks the same to me," she responds.

"Look closer," I gesture to the pictures along the staircase wall.

She climbs a couple of steps, looking at the photos, and I follow her.

"Wow, you weren't kidding."

I shake my head. "It gets worse."

She turns to me, leaning against the banister. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," I say, squeezing awkwardly past her and leading the way up the stairs to the empty box that used to be my room.

"Wow," she says when we enter and I just nod knowingly.

"You _finally_ cleaned your room...," she deadpans... with a fucking grin no less.

On impulse I poke her in the ribs. She clutches at her wounded bones and gapes at me unbelievingly. And she should. This is the first time that I've ever retaliated.

It feels good.

"Serves you right," I say to her incredulous face.

"You poked me!"

"Damn right I did."

"But _I'm _the poker, and _you're_ the poke-e."

I snort a laugh and grab some clean socks out of one of my bags before rummaging around for a hoodie.

"Carmen's your _poke-e_ now, not me," I say through a cocky smirk before continuing my still fruitless search in the abyssal depths of my luggage.

"Oh my God," she breathes.

I glance up at her curiously. I wasn't trying to be mean...

"Hey, it's the truth," I say, but her eyes are staring at the open bag at the end of the bed.

I follow her gaze.

Shit...

I leap over and try to stuff the green cloth deeper inside and bury it amongst its brothers and sisters, but she's already descended on us both, her hands seemingly everywhere as she tries to pry it from my fingers.

"Hey," I shout at her. "Get out of my clothes!"

"That's mine," she shouts back, giggling and tugging harder, and then, the cloth rips and we both fall on our asses.

I go stalk still and feel tears sting my eyes as I look down at this ridiculous, old, worn piece of faded cloth that means so much to me.

"You killed it...," I exhale in shock.

Spencer's still having fun and whoops as she holds up her half. "Finally, the mystery is solved!"

I feel like we've just desecrated the corpse of a loved-one.

Spencer seems to notice my glum and finally calms down. "It's just a hoodie, Ash."

No, no it's not. But then she couldn't know that. She doesn't know that this hoodie carried me through years of treatments, tears, depression, and countless hours waiting to die.

This hoodie was a piece of not just Spencer, but Spencer and I - the _us -_ that I'd killed.

And after, when I lived, well, it meant so much that I couldn't look at it anymore. So like everything else, I hid it away, shut it up in a forgotten corner of a dusty shelf. But recently, things have changed again. I found it again. I found those pieces of myself again; I found my need to believe that the _us _wasn't dead.

And now...

Is this an omen?

"Ash...," she says again but I don't respond. I can't look at her. All I can do is stare at the murky vision of torn, green fabric in my hands and feel entirely pathetic.

"Ash, I'm sorry...," she tries again, but it's over.

It's done.

There's just nothing left, nothing but a memory of that life, of those people, of that love...

I stand and glance around in this room, this grave, and let myself realize that everything is gone. I keep seeing it and saying it, but it just won't sink in.

"It's all just... gone," I say when I finally look up Spencer, and this is what it took for that information to finally settle in my skull.

Spencer's eyes rage at me like the Atlantic in a fall storm, and for a moment, I think that I see something in them. For a moment, I feel like even though there's only a memory left, maybe I'm not the only survivor who recalls it.

A tear falls over her lashes and I feel like a dick. I didn't mean to make her cry. But then I never do. Yet somehow, I'm consistent in this unwelcome task; it's like a talent.

I reach up to wipe the evidence of my asinine behavior away.

"It's okay," I lie. "It's just a hoodie."

I smile and it feels strange, and I know that I'm not convincing either of us, but I can't let on. I just can't go there anymore, and I don't want to hurt her any more than I already have.

I gather both pieces of the hoodie and hand them to her.

"I'm sorry I took it."

I just barely keep it together long enough to make it to the bathroom.

"Ash, it's okay," I hear as I shut and lock the door, slide down to the floor, and hug my knees.

It's all gone.

It's done.

It's over.

Let it go...

Just finally fucking let it all go...

"Ash," she says from the other side of the door. "I'm sorry..."

I scramble to my feet and back away from her voice. The sound of it burns like acid. I need... space, from her, from what she means, from what she does to me.

"It's all good, Spence."

An indeterminate amount of time passes as I just stand here and stare at the door having no idea what to do. I know that she's still out there waiting for me, and I wish she wouldn't.

How long would it take for her to just leave?

Forever, it seems.

I finally turn on the tap and scrub some water on my overheated face.

"Ash," she raps on the door. "Please let me in...?"

I turn off the tap and stare at myself in the mirror, trying to determine what to do. I know that I don't want to let her in, but I also know that it's futile to try and keep her out because in all of the ways that matter, she's already so deeply embedded inside of me that to remove her would mean death.

I'm still just not ready to face it, to face her. "I'll be out in a sec, okay?"

I can hear the disappointment in her muffled voice. "Okay..."

I take a towel from the cabinet over the toilet and dry my face, forcing myself to swallow all of these things that keep surfacing. I can allow myself to feel it; I can allow myself to cry, mostly because both beyond my control; but I can't let her see it; I can't infect her with it.

And yet, everything about this place and about her is trying to force it all out of me.

They don't understand just how bad it is. I barely do. I feel like I have all of these things, like I'm a collector of the most deplorable choices, the most painful memories, and I've taken them all and stuffed them deep in the attic in my mind.

For years, every time that I was handed something that I couldn't process, I'd just shove it up there and quickly slam the door.

But the more time that I spend alive, the more hurt and despair that keeps coming, the more that I have to brace myself against that door to keep it shut.

But there's just too much for me to handle alone, and I feel weary. But I know that if I let it come, if I step away from the door and accept that rush of darkness that will come tumbling out, I'll be swept away with it.

Nothing in that attic is soft or gentle or fuzzy.

That stupid hoodie represented just a piece of what's up there, and look at what just one memory has done to me.

I continue to look at myself in the mirror and for the first time, I can see just how broken I really am.

I may not survive much more, especially right now while my defenses are so shattered...

I close my eyes and remind myself that I have a year, just a year... and then I won't have to.

I suck in a deep breath and force myself to stop dealing with things, to stop feeling things, but I still can't face her.

"Spence, I think I just need to lie down right now."

"You want me to leave," she asks, and I can tell that I've hurt her yet again.

"No," I say quickly, even though it's a lie that's not a lie. "But I just... don't... feel well."

"Are you okay?"

I lift my hand from the sink and watch it tremble.

Fuck no, I'm not okay.

And I blame her.

"Yeah," I say, keeping up the farce. "I just need to lie down."

"Ash, you don't have to hide from me..."

Fuck, yes I really do. She doesn't understand, and I don't know how to explain it.

"I'm not hiding, promise. I'm just... tired."

"Okay," she says and I can hear the frustration in her voice. I also hear the sound of the front door thudding shut a few moments later.

I exhale and feel immediately better, like I have more control of myself.

Spencer's like my kryptonite. I just don't stand a chance when those big, blue eyes are trained on me.

I tiredly open the bathroom door and watch nonplussed as Spencer pulls herself off of the wall. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her eyes are unashamed at her betrayal.

Another deep breathe chokes up in my lungs as I try to focus myself.

"Are you okay," she asks again.

God, I can't answer that, and I can't even look at her.

So what does she do?

She takes me in her arms.

She's trying to kill me.

I feel stiff at first, but it doesn't last long. Like warmed chocolate, I melt into her embrace and find myself fumbling to keep that door up there shut.

"I'm fine," I choke out into her sweet smelling neck.

"Ash, it's okay to _not_ be okay. You don't have to be strong with me..."

Yes I do. She doesn't know what she does to me. She can't possibly know. I breathe her in, trying not to really hear or think or know anything. I just need to exist in this moment, empty and only slightly aware.

But holding me isn't going to help, so I pull away.

"It's your fault, you know," I say teasingly.

"I'm sorry about the sweater," she replies pathetically.

I reach up and tuck a stray lock of honey-hued hair behind her ear and stop to trace the arch of her cheekbone with my thumb.

I smile at her. "It's not the sweater, Spence. You make me feel..."

I gaze at her for long moments, trying to find the words, but wind up just shaking my head because there aren't any.

Her eyes are like maelstroms, and I feel like I'm swirling around the edge of a giant drain, and I intrinsically know that once I finally fall in, the deepest secrets of the universe will be revealed to me. Or maybe it's faith or blind belief.

Whatever it is, I'm about to tumble willingly. I want to let it happen. After everything else that's taken place, I'm ready to just lay back and let the current have me.

Her expression is so open, so kind, and I feel myself leaning in, wanting to breathe her in, to take her inside and be possessed.

And I swear that she's doing it on purpose, tugging on my heart strings and reeling me in, but it doesn't matter what I believe. Because the truth is that she's pulling back, pulling away, and I have no choice but to let her go.

And this is why I have to fight being vulnerable with her, because once I cross that invisible line, I'll lose her forever.

I turn and lean against the wall next to her, giving her the space that she so obviously wants.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, not even really sure what I'm apologizing for.

"Ash, we can't go there," she says.

We can't, but does that mean that she would if she could?

"You love Carmen," I say, more to remind myself than her.

"I do."

"I respect that, you know?"

She smiles sadly at me. "I know you do. I've never met a more loyal or honorable person."

"You should get out more," I say in a laughing way, feeling like a pretentious fool.

I say that I respect her relationship, and she believes me. I even know that I want to respect it because to do anything less would be unbelievably fucked up. Yet here I am continually feeling things that I shouldn't, things that defy said respect.

But I can't help it any more than my next breath, or next heartbeat, or the fact that I'm gay.

It's nothing short of the absolute truth. No amount of perspective or subjective theory will ever change it or make it fiction. I love Spencer. I will love her until the end of time, however long or short that may be; however many lovers she chooses over me.

Because it just is.

How do I love her like that and respect her relationship?

Is that even possible?

I don't know and if I'm honest, I'm prone to answer in the negative. But I can't cut her out again. I won't survive it. But more than that, I don't want to.

I have to find a way.

And it's just twelve months...

"Do you know what Christine did with your stuff," she asks out of nowhere. And I'm thankful for the lack of silence.

I drop my head against the wall behind me with a gentle thud. "I have no idea."

"You didn't ask her," she glances over at me incredulously.

I shrug. "We haven't had a normal conversation since I got here. She hates me, Spence. She only addresses me to let me know how disappointing I am."

"Have you told her yet?"

"No," I say.

"Well no wonder, Ash. She thinks that you just up and left without a care, and for no reason. Of course she's upset."

I roll my head over to face her. "Spence, she doesn't care. She hasn't shown any interest in what happened to me or why."

"Because she doesn't _know_ to care, Ash. All she knows is that you hurt her."

I sigh. "I'll find a way to tell her before I leave, but I want to wait until we're about to go just in case it gets bad."

She laughs and shakes her head.

"What," I ask.

"Nothing," she says in an ironic sort of way. "You just can't face anything without a safety net. God, it's frustrating, Ash. _You're _frustrating."

"Tell me something I don't know." I reply. "Even I'm frustrated with me."

She chuckles and I smile at her as something funny strikes me. "You know that Tegan and Sara song line that says, 'I feel like I wouldn't like me if I met me'?"

"Yeah," she answers with a furrowed brow. "You feel that way?"

"Yeah," I say. "Pretty much."

"Why?"

I glance at her like she's lost her mind. "You're serious...?"

"Well, yeah, I don't get it."

My demeanor turns dry. "You just got done telling me how frustrating I am, and you don't get it?"

Her expression gets pensive. "Ash, just because you're frustrating doesn't mean that I don't _like_ you. That's just... absurd. You're an amazing person."

I snort. "Yeah, okay..." I lean forward to pull off of the wall. "And on that note..."

She pulls me back to face her. "You seriously don't like yourself?"

I stare at her in puzzlement, trying to decipher why she's giving me that look and using that tone. I don't like myself. Few people do at this point. So what's the problem?

I just shrug, at a loss in this strange turn in the conversation.

"Ash, you're one of most amazing, selfless, loving, and talented people I've ever known. Yes, you're frustrating and stubborn and cynical, but you're more than likable... you're lovable."

She's really not playing this game fairly. In fact, she's down-right dirty about it. I just need her to stop cracking the armor, to stop saying things that give me hope and make my heart want to burst open because I can hardly contain all of the emotions.

I just need to be easy and light around her, and I _really _need her to be that way in return. Otherwise, she's going to have a blubbering mess on her hands, and it'll just hurt her more.

I can't be that way with her. I don't want to be that way with her.

I reach up and touch her forehead, finding comfort in humor. "Are you getting sick?"

She swats my hand away, unable to resist a smile at my antics. "I'm serious, Ashley."

Yeah, I know. "Believe me, I know how awesome I am."

She rolls her eyes at my trademark false bravado. "You're going to have to face it all eventually, Ash."

I smile, big and genuine, because I know something that she doesn't: no, I won't.

Twelve months...

"God," she says exasperatedly shoving me on the shoulder.

"You love me," I say playfully.

She releases an almost wistful sigh. "Yeah, I do."

Fuck, I just can't win...

I look down at the floor, tucking my fingers in my pockets and rocking on my heels. I can feel the blush heating up my cheeks, and I can feel her eyes watching it happen while she laughs.

"I should probably go see dad," she says.

I look up at her. I don't want her to go... like _ever_, but I understand that she has to.

My head nods while my heart sighs. "Yeah, he's probably losing his mind waiting to see you."

We start to walk towards the stairs. "Are you staying through Christmas," I ask hopefully.

"No, I can't. I have to make the red-eye in the morning so that I'm not late for work."

"Oh, okay." My heart squeezes in my chest.

"Yeah," she says. "Depending on how things go, I might come back for Christmas though. There are just a lot of variables."

That's code for 'Carmen sucks.' Spencer's not the only one that's terrible at hiding some blatant truths.

Before I know it we're at the door and she's opening it.

"Hey," I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. "If you have a hard time tonight or you just need anything - to talk, whatever, I'm here."

She grins and gives me a tight hug.

"Thanks," she breathes against my collarbones.

I have to gulp. She's going to kill me before the disease, I just know it. I guess it's fitting that I'm terminal because I'm totally okay with dying in her arms.

Her warmth is gone and I have to stare at her for a moment as I consider how she got to be on the front porch, the wintery cold seeping in from the gaping door.

"I'll text you and let you know how it goes," she promises.

I nod. "Good luck."

About this time I hear a car pull into the driveway and I'm almost thankful to see Christine and Kyla pull up in the Suburban.

They're terrible company but at least I won't be alone.

Spencer's all smiles as she greets them, but then with one last look over her shoulder, she's gone. And I'm left with Kyla who's giving me a the stink eye.

I glare at her. "Don't."

She shrugs, sporting a self-satisfied smile as she pushes past me with her arms full of bags.

"Kyla, it's not like that."

"I didn't say anything," she whines.

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She sets the bags down by the stairs and Christine adds her load to the massive pile before shutting the door.

"Did you guys buy for a third world country," I ask.

"Don't worry," Christine says. "They're not for you."

Ouch...

I shrug at her and wish for some serious take backs on that whole 'happy that they're here' thing.

Without another word, I make my way up the stairs to try and take a nap, even though I know that it won't work.

But anything is better than being constantly reminded of what a worthless disappointment I am.

* * *

Christmas morning was an awkward affair. I got a few neat trinkets and baubles, but nothing too personal. I actually really tried with my gifts, but they were received with casual indifference. Which, in and of itself isn't all that unusual.

The whole thing just didn't hold that air of magic that it used to.

It was as if all of the fun, the emotion, was sapped out of it. It felt like we were just keeping up appearances and honoring tradition. And as was becoming the new norm, I just kind of sat there and watched them have their family moment far removed from the situation.

But that's okay. I'm learning not to need them any more than they need me. I'm getting better at functioning as half a person.

Or at least, I think I am.

I mean, it's been another three weeks and while I still really, really want to run and hide, I haven't. I'm still here. Of course, I've tried in small ways to find something of those outlets, but it just doesn't seem to help anymore. I can't sleep and leaving makes me feel like I'm waiting for something, or maybe drowning.

But somehow I've stopped worrying about it. It will come when it comes, whatever it is, and as it does I'll just roll with the punches. There's just nothing that I can do to avoid the nastiness that life has to offer.

So why fight it?

It took me a long time to figure that out, but here I am. And it's strange to find myself with this newfound flexibility because I hurt more than I can ever remember in my life. If there were a time to run or sleep my life away, it's now. I feel like I've been hollowed out and every stretched vein, every frayed nerve, every torn muscle aches unbearably.

I guess I'm pretending that the attic just isn't a big deal. I think it's called suffering in silence, and I can't see the end in sight, at least not as long as I draw breath.

But who knows how long that will be?

I sure as fuck don't.

Twelve minutes or twelve months, it makes no difference at this point. It's all going to be oddly relaxed torture.

Got to love a good contradictory mind fuck...

"Ash, grab the pies."

I tug at the collar of my jacket yet again in nervous anticipation and pick up the pies on the counter. Kyla and Christine start to rummage through the bags leaving me to hurry and up and wait.

I've come to realize that there's just nothing that I can do with them either. Nothing I say is the right thing. I can't force Christine to forgive me. I can't force her to care about me, and I can't force Kyla to have my back.

I could sooner squeeze blood from a turnip.

Speaking of blood, I can't shake this feeling that going to the Carlin's is going to be ground zero for Armageddon.

And that's precisely where we're headed as soon as they decide we're ready.

Finally every item is checked off of the list and we're ready to file out through the front door, our arms laden with delicious smelling confections. Well, all of it's delicious except the tofurkey that Kyla's carrying.

If for no other reason, some real fucking turkey would be worth any amount of humiliatingly public, familial sniping. I just hope that we can eat before anyone pulls a gun or throws a steak knife.

We make it safely to the Carlin door just like a million times before, but unlike then, I know deep in my bones that this is where all safety ends. I may be hallucinating, but I swear that I see a sign above the door that reads, "Abandon all hope, all ye who enter."

I can hear muffled talking, or maybe shouting, coming from inside, and I find myself looking over my shoulder and wondering how far I could get before Kyla puts me down.

But she's standing there, a shrewd look on her face as she blocks the only escape. And something tells me that no matter how quick I am, she'd chuck that tofurky dish at my head like a Frisbee and drop me like a sack of bricks.

I turn back to the dreaded gate to hell, reminding myself that running doesn't do any good anymore anyway.

I tug at my jacket collar.

Just go with the flow...

That's my new motto...

Mrs. C answers the door and I feel the blood drain from my face. She's looking at me like I'm typhoid Mary.

"Hello, Paula," Christine says curtly.

"Christine," Paula nearly hisses.

If they were cats, their tails would be sticking straight up with the fur fluffed out, their backs overly arched, their eyes bulging, and their claws and teeth bared.

Fuck, we haven't even entered yet.

I can almost hear an announcer shout, "Round one, FIGHT!"

I glance over at Christine with an 'I told you so' expression, but she's either ignoring me or doesn't care.

Who am I kidding? It's both...

Paula reluctantly steps back from the jamb and opens the door wider so that we can all file inside. All of the loud talking or maybe shouting stops as those in the living room turn to stare at us.

It's like a Mexican stand-off the way we're all look at one another as if finally facing a mortal enemy. I swear that I even see a tumbleweed roll across the hall. The illusion is only broken by the incessantly irritating Christmas tune that continues along gayly in the background.

Spencer's face is red and her eyes glassy like she's been crying. She looks at me, gives me a heartbreaking smile, and then looks away.

She only got here last night. How could things be that bad already?

Well, they are, and while the fact that she's been crying is bad enough, of course there's more: Carmen's here. I mean, she's really here, and while I'm used to her being pissed at me, I don't think that her anger is all my fault, not this time. I mean, I'm sure I'm part of it, but this is just... more.

And she's obviously not helping Spencer much if the sour look on her face and defensive posture mean anything.

Glen and Madison are quite clearly at odds. Hell, Glen seems at odds with _everyone_ in this room, standing stoic and brooding in the corner where he's sipping from a large Christmas mug that's clearly filled with eggnog.

God, I hope it's spiked. Maybe that's what I need: a little muscle relaxer. Nothing else has been working, and this is worse than I expected.

And that's saying something.

"I'm going to go put these in the kitchen," I lift the pies and deign to break the stand-off so that I can make a hasty retreat. I shoot one last dagger at Carmen, and almost trip over the tumbleweed on my way to the kitchen, where I will hopefully find some booze.

I mean nog...

Mr. C is at the stove stirring a large pot, his eyes fixed on something much further than the brown gravy inside.

I set the pies on the counter and approach him slowly. "Mr. C, you okay?"

He flinches at the sound of my voice like he's been shocked before fixing his glazed-over eyes on me. "Ashley..."

He taps the spoon on the side of the pot and turns the heat down to low. "I'm glad you guys made it."

Of course he has to hug me, so I endure it.

"It's like the Ides of March out there," I throw my thumb in the general direction of the living room. "What's going on?"

He shrugs and tries to play innocent. "It's nothing."

I just lean against the counter and stare at him, waiting.

Of course, the talking... no, it's now confirmed arguing, starts up again and I just cross my arms over my chest.

He finally lets out a long-suffering breath and slumps against the counter next to me. "Carmen and Paula have been going at it since they arrived last night, Glen and Madison have done nothing but fight about whether or not to get divorced for the last week, and Spencer, Kenzi, and I are kind of in the middle of it all."

He picks up the cup behind him and poises it at his lips, glancing at me over the rim. "And I don't like her either."

It takes a moment for me to realize who he's talking about and I can't help but grin at him in response. I really do appreciate Mr. C. I wish there were a way to keep him safe from all of this bullshit, but just like Spencer, he'd never give up on his family, even the worst of them.

I watch enviously as drinks deeply from the tankard, and he catches me eyeing the thick, sickly sweet drink.

"Would you like a cup, or do you want some hot chocolate?"

Oooo, that's a hard one.

Well, maybe not...

"Which one's spiked," I ask.

He smirks. "The eggnog, but I have some Bailey's if you really want the chocolate."

"Yes, please," I say quickly and he chuckles as he retrieves a matching Christmas mug and begins to pour from the large thermos on the counter.

I watch happily as he pulls a bottle of Bailey's from the kitchen cupboard, a cupboard that's a _very _well stocked bar, and pours a generous portion in the chocolate.

"There you go," he says, handing me the steaming amazingness.

I take a huge gulp, moving the sweet liquid around in my mouth and closing my eyes to savor it. But then, it's nearly ripped from my hands.

"You really think that drinking is going to make things better? It's already hostile out there."

I watch with panic as Kyla starts to dump my drink down the sink.

"I can't believe you just left us out there alone," she continues and I decide that enough is enough. I grab her hand and tip it back up, saving about half of my drink and giving her a look that could rust metal.

We then find ourselves both fighting for control of my drink.

I lean in close to her. "I've been putting up with a lot from you recently, Kyla."

She digs one of her nails in my knuckle and I hiss but keep my grip, bending one of her fingers at an odd angle.

"_You_ have been putting with a lot," she replies through clenched teeth.

"I'm not finished," I cut her off.

She looks like she might continue anyway, so I beat her to the punch. "I know that you want to help me, but I'm telling you right now that you need to back off."

I make my voice very low. "Tonight is _definitely_ not the night to fuck with me."

She tries to stare me down but it doesn't work and she has no choice but to release the cup, albeit angrily. She brushes past Christine on her way out of the kitchen, and of course, Christine turns her most scathing expression on me.

I take another sip in such a way that it's almost like I'm spiting her, and I immediately feel less tense, despite everything else.

Mr. C, who's been quietly sipping from his own mug, decides to greet Christine. "It's good to see you, Christine."

"Arthur," she says.

It gets incredibly quiet, and I dart my eyes from one to the other over the rim of my drink as they avoid speaking. There's definitely no love lost between these two. Apparently Christine has issues with more than just me. I hate to say it because I like Mr. C, but I'm glad to have someone else to buffer her bad attitude, even if it's just for a night.

I wonder what he did to her to piss her off though...

I go to take another sip of my cocoa as Christine finished laying out of our contributions neatly and exits the room without a word.

I look over to Mr. C. Both of our goblets are empty now and as if by silent understanding, we pour ourselves another. He's a little sloppy, but not a drop is spilled.

About this time Clay enters the kitchen and stops abruptly. His eyes meet mine and his smile grows huge before he strides over and takes me in gentle hug.

"Ashley Davies," he says pulling back. "It's about time you came home."

"It's good to see you too, Clay."

"NO _WAY_," is blurted from the doorway and Clay moves to reveal Chelsea, her mouth hanging open in happy surprise.

"_Girl," _she drawls the word as if it's four syllables. "Where you _been_?!"

And I am being squeezed in yet another awkward hug.

"Here and there," I say as I tug on my jacket collar. I really don't want to have this conversation right now.

She pulls back and Mr. C squeezes my shoulder in understanding.

The atmosphere seems to grow heavy with the way she's looking at me, so I deftly change the subject.

"But look at you," I say, holding her arms out and giving her the once over. "You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you."

And it's true. Neither she nor Clay appear to be a day older. Most notably though, they look happy, and it's a breath of fresh air to see that at least one couple in this group isn't failing at life.

"Stop," she blushes and waves a dismissive hand.

She cuddles up to Clay and they kiss sweetly, and I feel... so many things that I don't want to feel.

Mostly sad...

And lonely...

I chug at my spiked chocolate and determine that I'll just hide in the kitchen with Mr. C and his booze for the rest of the night. He seems happy to have a drinking companion anyway.

"So," Chelsea starts. "Are you going to tell me where you've been?"

She's not as smiley as she was just a moment before. It's a very passive aggressive expression that now dominates her face, and I have to hand it to her; she's sly. Chelsea doesn't really get angry, she just kind of quietly, almost kindly, puts you at ease before going in for the kill.

"Chels...," Clay tries to soothe her.

"No, Clay, I think we deserve an answer."

"Chelsea, maybe a little later," Mr. C tries to step in, but I stop him.

"No, Mr. C, it's okay."

I feel pretty warm and fuzzy, like nothing really matters. Thank God for cocoa and fermentation. I face Chelsea and say the first thing that comes to my twisted mind: a strange story that went viral on facebook.

"I tried to rob a beauty supply store but the cashier was black belt and she knocked me out before I could get away. When I woke up, she had me tied up in the back of her shop, and then she used me as a sex slave for four years to teach me a lesson. That's where I've been."

Well, Chelsea's indignation has faded. I've also successfully killed any chance of a normal conversation. Neither Chelsea nor Clay can seem to find words, so I just finish off my second cup of cocoa and pass my empty mug to Mr. C who tries not to laugh as he obliges with another refill.

I plan to keep this feeling for as long as I can. This night should be smooth sailing if I can manage it. And I can manage it so long as Mr. C keeps 'em comin'.

Just as he hands me my refill, a buzzer goes off and he hurries to pull a real turkey from the oven. I want to weep when I see it. It's all golden and juicy and smells like butterball heaven.

Le sigh...

"Clay, Chels," Mr. C says. "Go set the table, please."

Clay has to forcibly pull Chelsea out of the kitchen and it's about this time that Paula comes walking into the room.

Well, that's my cue...

I try to move past her, but she stops me, pulling the newly filled mug from my hands and sniffing it.

God, what is with people today just taking my shit?

"Really, Arthur," she pins her laser-like eyes on him in severe disapproval.

If I didn't know any better, I swear the slump of his shoulders rounds even further.

"It's not enough that you can't go just _one _day without a drink," she continues. "But you have to get the kids liquored up too?"

I give her a smile. "I'm twenty-two, Paula. I'm old enough to drink if I want."

I pull the mug back from her hands. "And I want."

With that, I nearly run from the room. I almost feel bad for leaving Mr. C to deal with her alone, but I didn't marry that beast.

The living room situation is a little better since Glen's nowhere in sight, but Madison gives me a look that says how much she wishes she could vaporize me with telepathy, and Spencer and Carmen are still wrapped up their drama, so I decide to step outside and find some air to breathe.

I didn't realize just how hot and uncomfortable it was in there until the crisp winter air is prickling the skin of my face and filling my lungs. My head starts to clear a little, but then I smell the distinct odor of cigarettes.

I'm not sure why I peek around the corner - maybe just to confirm what I already know, but it's a little late to turn back because Glen sees me.

He gives me a bored expression and I can't help but chuckle at how ridiculous he looks up close with a goatee and a bad temperament.

"So that's why you're here," he says. "To laugh about the fact that you've completely destroyed my family."

That sobers me up a little bit. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says.

I nod. "Yeah, I heard you, but as usual, nothing you say makes any sense."

He snorts. "You infected my sister with your...," he fumbles for the right word and comes up with, "_Gay_ness..."

Gayness? Seriously? He was thinking so hard that steam was coming out of his ears and that was the result?

"If it weren't for you," he continues. "My family wouldn't be such a fucking wreck."

I just shake my head. "You're ridiculous, and I don't just mean your goatee."

He pulls himself up off of the wall and takes one long, last drag from his cigarette before flicking it at my feet.

I step on it to put it out. "Spencer's gay, Glen." He grimaces and I soldier on. "She can't help it, and even if she could, why should it matter? She's still Spencer."

He laughs humorlessly, but I don't see how it's funny. "It's been four years and you seriously can't see that you and your mother are the reason your family is so fucked up?"

I take another sip of my chocolate and wait for him to say something, but he doesn't, at least not until he's pushed past me and just about to step back through the front door.

"You know, it was better when you were gone."

He slams the door behind him and it takes a moment for me to collect my thoughts.

Was it better for everyone? I mean, I know that I've been the catalyst for a lot of pain...

I take another gulp from my cocoa and feel the alcohol settle sourly in my stomach. This night is turning out to be a strange nightmare. I expected the hostility, but I didn't expect to be comfortable with it. I certainly didn't expect to get drunk.

I look down into the mug and wonder if Mr. C's cocoa is imbued with magical properties. After a shrug, I lift it in the general direction of the Carlin kitchen in mock salute and gulp the rest down. I feel a little woozy afterwards and find myself dropping the cup in the snow so that I can grope the wall of the house.

Madison and Glen decide to make the front porch their sparring grounds and the last thing I want to hear is how he can't keep it up. I stagger my way towards the backyard, happy when they're out of earshot and I can see a snow covered Adirondack.

I only get a few feet before I'm forced to lean against the house and lay my head against the cold brick, letting the cooling relief of the wall wash through my system.

The backdoors open and shut, and then I hear hushed murmuring. Oh for fuck's sake. Is there nowhere to get away from these people?

"Dad invited her," Spencer says.

"Well, he can un-invite her. Things are bad enough without _her_ in the mix, Spencer."

"I know that this isn't easy, Carmen..."

"No, Spence, this shouldn't even be happening. You and I agreed..."

"They're my _family_, Carmen..."

I look back towards the front of the house but I can still slightly hear the other argument taking place up there. I'm, quite literally, trapped in hell. And my stomach is already all kinds of sour.

"I understand that, Spence," they continue. "But they don't accept you... or me, for that matter. And _she _is _not_ part of your family."

"Carmen, I know that you don't like it, but she _is _part of my family. I've known her since I was eleven. We practically lived together for eight years."

"And she's your first love...," Carmen sounds defeated.

"Yes, but-"

I feel frozen to the wall like a barnacle to the hull of a ship at this point, slight vertigo and all.

"I'm really trying to understand here, Spence, but I don't. Do you even remember what you went through after she left you?"

"Of course I remember," she responds testily.

"Then why? We've been together for two years; we were happy, weren't we?"

There's no answer, but then Carmen doesn't really give her a chance to say anything.

"But then she shows up out of the blue, and... and it's like I'm not enough for you anymore."

"Carmen, it's not like that."

"Then how is it, Spence?"

"She could die..."

"I'm sorry, but that's her problem."

"Wow, could you be anymore insensitive?"

"I'm not trying to be insensitive, Spence. I'm trying to save you from going through that pain again, and I'm also trying to save our relationship, but you seem hell bent on both."

"Because you keep making me choose between you and the people I love!"

The very air seems to thicken with angst and a precarious calm stews for long moments. I can't tell if it's them or the alcohol as I look down at the snow and consider hurling.

"I can't believe you right now, Spencer," Carmen sniffs. "I'm not trying to make you choose anyone. If I'm not someone that you love, then you should just tell me."

Is she crying?

"I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that I need my family and other people in my life too."

"They don't love you; they don't accept you; I don't understand it..."

"Look, I'm not like you, Carmen. I can't just cut out the people that I love if they don't love me."

"Spencer, you keep talking about your family. I get that you needed to come here, even though I don't understand why it _had_ to be Christmas or why I _had_ to come with you. But that's not my real problem here and you know it. You _know_ we're talking about Ashley. You want to go traipsing around with her for a year! I'm sorry, but if the tables were turned, you wouldn't be okay with it."

It takes a moment, but like a knife to my heart, Spencer agrees. "You're right; I wouldn't be comfortable with it."

Carmen senses that she's gaining ground. "So how can you expect me to be comfortable with it? Why do you need her when you have me?"

It takes at least a minute for Spencer to respond. "Carmen, she's dying, and while I know that it's her problem, it also got me thinking."

Spencer clears her throat and I can tell that she's trying to maintain herself. "Life is short, and it's precious, and I feel like I'm wasting it."

"You're wasting it... with me."

"_No_... no, _please_, just try to listen to me." Spencer pleads. "I feel like I'm wasting my life being angry at my parents, avoiding the people that I care about, and closing myself off. I feel like I'm losing myself, Carmen, and everyone _else _I care about is falling apart. I want to be there for them, all of them. I don't want to wake up ten years from now and have all these regrets."

"You'd regret a life with me if you couldn't have her in it," she asks, and I roll my eyes.

What part of this isn't she getting? I'm drunk and hugging the cold wall of a house like a tawdry lover while little chocolate fishes named Bailey try to swim back up stream, but _I_ still get it.

"No, I wouldn't regret a life with _you_; I'd regret a life where I let the people I love fall apart because you didn't understand my need to help them, and then I'd start to resent you for it. We talked about all of this in therapy..."

"Yeah, we did," Carmen agrees. "And that's why I'm here with you, trying. Look, I'm sorry. You're my world, Spence, and I feel like I'm losing you..."

"Carmen, you haven't lost me yet."

Carmen blows out an anxious breath. "_Yet_..."

Spencer releases a similar sigh. "Carmen, you won't lose me in the future if you can just be here with me now, because the present is really freaking me out."

"Okay," Carmen says. "Okay, I guess you can just... do what you want, though I'm not even sure what that is. _Who_ that is...," she says under her breath.

Spencer sounds exasperated. "What I want is to figure some things out and to help my family. And yes, that includes Ashley."

"She wants you back, Spence..."

I can hear the smile in Spencer's voice. "Well, I'm not available."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Very sure."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

I hear the sound of rustling fabric and Spencer's voice becomes lower, huskier. "You know what else I want?"

"Hm," Carmen hums around what sounds like a mouth full. If this isn't over soon I may find my mouth full of Bailey fishes.

"You," Spencer says and I almost lose it as the unmistakable sounds of kissing smack against my eardrums.

I still can't move, even though every inch of my skin is crawling. But of course, it's like my feet have been nailed to the frozen ground, as if some part of me wants to force me to listen, to know, to accept.

They obviously love each other, and even though it hurts more than I can say, I can't begrudge Spencer this happiness.

I can't begrudge her any happiness...

I need to just let her go...

I hear a sharp knock on the glass of the backdoor and finally the kissing stops.

Thank sweet Jesus...

"Dinner's ready," Spencer says.

"She hates me," Carmen replies.

"Babe, she doesn't know you. She's just ignorant."

I hear Carmen blow out another breath and steal another kiss. "I'm trying, Spence."

"I know," Spencer says happily. "Thank you."

And with that, they're gone and I'm finally released from my forced vigil. Oddly enough, I don't feel so sick anymore. I just wish I hadn't heard any of that, and yet I stood here listening. And what's worse is that I know that I have to go in there and pretend that I don't know.

If Spencer found out, she'd kill me, or let Carmen do it.

I need a minute. I'm still a little woozy. I know better than to mix sweet things with my alcohol. It almost makes it absorb faster or something, but it usually also burns out of my system faster.

If I give it a little time, I should be okay, but I can still hear Madison and Glen at the front of the house going at it.

The backyard it is. Although, I know that if I wait too long, Kyla will come looking for me with something sharp and pointy, but it can't be helped; let her stab me.

I shuffle around the corner and head straight for the Adirondack. I don't care if my ass gets wet; but then I hear the french doors open again and look up just in time to see Spencer come walking out.

Shit...

I nearly dive back around the corner, cursing under my breath as I press myself against the wall yet again and close my eyes against the gentle spins.

Did she see me?

I hear the crunch of her footsteps getting closer and my heart starts to pound in my chest, but then the footsteps pass me, and I finally peek open an eye to watch as she heads towards the shed with two big, silver bowls in her hands.

She disappears inside leaving the doors ajar and I feel my brows furrow. What's that about?

I decide to go ahead and try to sneak into the house, and sprint drunkenly for the back door. I only barely stop myself from face planting into the glass panes just as I reach for the handle. But then the handle isn't there anymore.

I stare stupidly at where the handle should be but I only find a chasm. And when I track my eyes higher, I find Carmen standing there.

I stumble back a bit, and try to think, but my brain feels murky, like it's trying to slog through knee high mud.

"Ashley," Spencer says.

And that's when I realize that I'm pinned between an angry Carmen and a now aware Spencer who's paused in the shed door to stare at me.

If I close my eyes so that I can't see them any longer, does that mean that they won't be able to see me either?

What the hell, I give it a try...

"Ashley, how long have you been out here?"

Fuck, she knows...

She _always _knows...

Just how...?

And it's about this time that I hear some excited barking. My eyes snap open and I turn to see Flotsam and Jetsam come charging through the shed doors, nearly knocking Spencer over as they barrel towards me.

"FLOT! JET," Spencer shouts, but it's no use.

I brace myself for the excited impact but then it never comes. I watch as they dart right passed me and veer for Carmen who screams and abandons the door to climb up on a nearby armchair. But then, the dogs don't care about her either. They disappear into the house, and it only takes about ten seconds for shouts, breaking glass, and cursing to thunder from the vicinity of the dining room.

Spencer chases after them and I finally get my bearings and chase after her.

We both burst through the doors, sprint through the hall, and find ourselves in the dining room where a glorious mess awaits.

Of course, I just improve on the mess, overestimating my stopping point and sending Spencer into the table who then sends Madison's wine into her lap. Spencer shoves me back and Madison stands slowly, lifting her hands to gawk at the horrendous splotch of red blooming at her crotch in silent wonder.

The bulk of the mess isn't my fault though. The tablecloth is already skewed on the table, several dishes of food toppled and spilled onto its once white surface and dribbling over onto the floor.

Glen doesn't move except to turn his head and start to snort eggnog out of his nose with laughter.

Mrs. C is on the floor in the fetal position and holding her arms in front of her face to ward off the ravenous dogs who are just a foot away tearing into what would have been a magnificent turkey.

Christine and Kyla merely lean back in their chairs and sip their wine, as if this is a common, everyday occurrence.

Chelsea and Clay are pressed against the nearby wall, smartly avoiding all of this mess, and Mr. C steps forward to unsuccessfully try to pry his turkey from the jaws of his wild grand-doggers, but he gets growled at.

Spencer's angry voice makes us all jump. "FLOT! JET!"

She charges up to them and grabs one of them by the collar and Mr. C helps by grabbing the other. They manage to tear them away from the mauled bird carcass and drag them out to the backyard, Spencer admonishing them all the way.

My eyes track to Carmen, who's now standing in the entryway to the dining room, blatant disapproval oozing off of her.

"Do you often get drunk, eavesdrop on personal conversations, and wreck dinner for everyone," she asks me.

"Only on Thursdays," I reply off-handedly.

She snorts. "Is nothing serious to you?" She gestures to the mess in the room. "Look at what you've done."

Glen raises his mug. "Here, here."

"Oh shut up, Glen," Clay, Chelsea, Christine, and Kyla chorus.

"How is it my fault that the dogs got in the house?"

"You were hiding in the back yard like some voyeuristic stalker. If Spencer hadn't been distracted they'd have never gotten out of the shed."

"I'm not the one that screamed and ran away from the door instead of just closing it," I reply.

Paula is finally uncurling on the floor, venom turning her eyes to slits. "Both of you have a done a wonderful job ruining Christmas."

"Tell 'em, mom," Glen slurs and this time Madison slaps him on the back of the head.

"You're one to talk, Glen. You walk around here drunk off of your ass in front of your own daughter."

About this time the cry of a child upstairs breaks through the air and Madison starts spluttering at Glen in Spanish. I can't understand a single word of what she just said at rapid-fire speed, but it didn't sound very loving.

Well, I understood puta.

"Like father, like son," Mrs. C adds as Madison storms out of the room.

"Stop it, all of you," Spencer shouts sharply as she enters the hallway.

Everyone goes statue still and the room becomes deathly quiet. Spencer takes the time to look at each person individually, and while most of us are properly chastised, Mrs. C won't have it.

"Who do you think you're talking to," she asks Spencer in a dark tone.

"A self-righteous bigot," I murmur under my breath and Carmen snorts a laugh before diverting her eyes to floor.

Of course, Spencer trains her eyes on me and I shrink away from her, feeling slightly better when she then pans to Carmen who beat me to the eyes on carpet contrition.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Ashley," Mrs. C obviously heard me.

"I think it's time you shut your mouth, Paula," Christine pipes up and we both stare at her incredulously.

I mean, since when?

Mrs. C looks like she's seconds from leaping over the destroyed table to choke Christine who's still cool as a cucumber with her wine, but as if by some silent understanding, Spencer and Mr. C start to clean up the mess.

Odd enough, their tactic sort of diffuses the situation. It takes a few long moments, but finally everyone starts to help.

Well, everyone but Glen.

I can tell by the rigid set of Spencer's shoulders and the quick, jerky movements of her hands as she cleans that she's unbelievably pissed. And that's bad enough, but she's also quietly crying, randomly swiping a hand under her nose.

Carmen's right. This was my fault.

I realize that I need to talk to Spencer and let her off of the hook so that she can focus on her family. And while I hate to admit it to myself, I need to leave her alone to fix any possible damage I've caused to her relationship with Carmen.

It was foolish of me to ask her for a year. She has a life, responsibility, a partner, and a family. They need her. And while I need her more, they actually deserve her.

I turn a chair back over while Chelsea tries to smooth out the tablecloth and everyone else starts to clean up the spilled food and broken glass. We're able to salvage at least half of the total meal as most of the bowls only tipped on the table, and I know that there will be plenty of pie, but that turkey is toast.

The tofurkey is just fine though... of course.

I reach down to help Spencer bag up the turkey remains but she pulls away from me and sniffles.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

She slows a little bit and exhales heavily. And this time, she lets me help her.

"Were you eavesdropping," she asks.

It's my turn to exhale. "I had been outside for a long while before you came out. I had too much to drink..."

She glances up at me, her watery eyes so disappointed that I have to swallow thickly against the guilt. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I sort of got trapped between you and Gladison's drama"

She chuckles a little at the name to spite herself before swallowing it in favor of righteous indignation. "But you didn't leave when you heard us," she accuses.

I shake my head. "No, I didn't."

She shakes her head, throwing the last of the turkey in her garbage bag. Before I know it, she's on her feet and disappearing out the front door. I think about it for a moment and finally decide to follow her. I find her rounding the house.

"Spencer," I job down the steps. "I know I shouldn't have listened, but maybe it's a good thing I did."

That makes her stop and turn to me, fury burning on her flushed cheeks.

"It was selfish of me to ask you to spend the year with me." I explain as I step a little closer, as if I'm approaching a frightened animal. "I understand that now."

She makes a disgusted sound and throws the bag in the trash can before brushing past me and heading back towards the front door without a word.

Again, I follow her. "Spencer, you don't owe me anything, and you should work on your family, your relationships that matter, not some fucked up nightmare from your past."

She stops to the top of the front porch steps and whirls on me angrily.

"Shut up!"

She turns to go inside but then after two steps she again stops and I watch her heave heavy breathes as she seems to seethe.

It's only seconds before she comes right back to the top of the steps and looms over me, the blue of her eyes nearly burning as she says, "You don't get to do that, Ash!"

"Do what," I ask hesitantly.

"Decide what you're worth to me or if you matter to me! I decide for myself what I want to do with my time and who's worth spending it with! GOD," she throws her hands up in frustration. "I get enough controlling bullshit from Carmen and my mother."

Ouch...

"Okay," I say simply.

I don't' think I've ever seen her this angry, and that's saying something.

"It's your choice," I agree. "But you know just as well as I do that I shouldn't matter. I've done nothing but fuck up your life, Spence, both then and now. Your family needs you and you love Carmen."

"_You_ need me," she replies lowly.

I nod, unable or unwilling to lie about that fact. "I do, but it's a year, Spence, just a year." I shrug. "It doesn't matter." I gesture to the house. "They matter because there's a future with them. There isn't one with me."

And my own words resound inside of me, giving me new understanding of just what it means to live and die, to love unselfishly. It only helps to strengthen my resolve to leave her happy and healthy, to stop fucking things up for her.

I swear she's so mad that she's going to slap me, but I can't seem to move even as she gets intimidatingly closer to me like a towering angel of destruction.

"You listen to me, Ashley Davies, just because you _had _a sickness doesn't mean that you don't have a future. And even if you _were_ currently sick, which you're _not_, you'd _still_ matter to me." She jabs a finger into my chest hard and leaves a throbbing ache behind that I rub at with a scowl.

"So shut the fuck up about it," she continues. "I'm doing this with you for a year, and you're going to survive afterward."

We both know that it doesn't work that way though. No amount of intimidation she throws out at the universe can save my life.

She turns to walk away and I find myself running up the steps to pull her arm and stop her at the top.

"Does that mean you're answer is yes?"

"Yes," she says loudly. "Yes, you're worth a year! Yes, you matter! Yes, you asked and my answer is YES!"

She's nearly shaking now, tears rolling thick and hot down her flushed cheeks, and I'm not sure how to feel. I mean, I know that I want to jump up and click my heels together while I pump a fist in the air, but what about her job, Carmen, her life?

How did this happen?

I lean in and take her in my arms, this time determined to be the one comforting her. And she doesn't hesitate to tighten the hug. Why does she always have to feel so good?

I close my eyes and wonder at her. She was determined not to come when I offered and then we just what, magically switched places?

No, this isn't right. Isn't she listening to me? I lean back just enough to see her eyes.

"Spencer, didn't you just hear what I said?"

She scoffs. "Didn't you?"

Okay, so it's her choice. But that's not entirely true. It's my choice too. But then, I'm delusional to think that I could do anything but what she wants, especially when I'm only inches away from her and gazing deeply into her determined eyes.

"Okay," I say.

She leans her head back and closes her eyes as if praying for God to strike me with a thunderbolt for my doltishness and I chuckle.

I watch her brows furrow and follow her gaze to a bushel of mistletoe at the top of the steps. Oh man, Mr. C is crack up...

She looks back at me, her ire dissipating as a cavalcade of other emotions appear and fight for dominance inside of her, all of them seemingly painful. And yet again, there's this moment where I know, where I feel inexplicably drawn to her, and I know that she feels it too.

But unlike those other times, it's me who breaks it.

"Spence, I just want to stop hurting you," I say.

She lowers her head and sniffs and I find myself nestling my nose in the top of her hairline. "You always hurt the ones you love, Ash," she murmurs.

She looks up. "So long as we know each other, we're going to hurt each other. That's what it means to care."

"But you don't hurt me," I say gently.

"Don't I," she asks disbelievingly.

And as I think about it, I realize that it's true. I've been feeling a decidedly Spencer shaped hole in my chest for about two months now, but that pain doesn't register in a way that would make me mad at her or hate her or want her gone. It's not her fault. And if anything, it makes me love her more.

Maybe that's what it's like for her. Maybe it's not as bad as I thought.

I look down at my feet. "Spence, are you sure?"

She places a finger beneath my chin and lifts my eyes to hers. I can see it there, like the door to a thousand churches opening up to me with a single blue-eyed blink. The answer isn't just yes, but it's unequivocal, without hesitation.

Yes, I matter to her if to no one else.

"Yes," she says.

"Okay," I say lamely for the third time.

What else can I say? English always fails; my tongue always fails when I'm near this girl, this woman, the love of my life.

She lingers close, her breath warming the chilled skin of my face and I close my eyes, just breathing her in.

But then, all too soon, she's gone and I'm staring at the open door left in her wake, never really closed to me but impossible to walk through all the same.

I step inside and shut it behind me, preparing to face these people. And for once, it's not because I only have twelve months or because I have an ulterior motive. I'm not just here for Spencer. I'm not even here for Kyla or Mr. C.

I'm here for me.

I just need to be honest, with them and myself. Wasn't that something on my list? I know that it'll take more than two months in Ohio going insane, but it's a start, right?

I walk into the dining room to find everyone sitting at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other over the now cold remnants of a meal meant to salvage an utterly destroyed holiday.

I sit, and in utter silence that's only broken by the sounds of clinking dishes, silverware to plates, and Kenzi's childish squealing, we all eat. The food settles like a lump of coal but I'm thankful to have these fucked up people in my life.

For a moment, I remember what it used to be like at this table on a Saturday morning: how irritatingly playful Glen was, how Mrs. C would lovingly smooth out mine and Spencer's ponytails on her way past our chairs, how Mr. C found so much joy and fulfillment in feeding his family, how Clay poured over his science books in the midst of chaos without a flinch.

And Christine, for a moment I remember how she would stand up for me, how she'd love me without smothering me, how she gave me the right to be myself without judgment or pretense.

And Kyla... for a moment she's five years old, her clothes threadbare but clean, and I'm putting a stolen barrette in her mahogany hair.

For a moment, I see them as they were, as I wish they could still be, as they almost still are, as my family, and I feel a deep sadness as another perforation of loss pangs through me.

My family...

These people are my family... and they can't even look at each other.

"I'm sorry," I say and they all look at me.

I drop my eyes to my plate where I play with my lump of gelatinous tofurkey.

"I'm sorry. I left, abruptly, and it hurt a lot of you. I just didn't know what to do. There were things..."

I blow out a breath, completely unable to finish that sentence, even as they all stare at me expectantly.

"I just messed up, and I'm sorry," I finish.

"It's okay," Mr. C says.

"Like hell it is," Christine adds.

"Mom, there's stuff you don't know," Kyla tries.

"So what's your excuse for treating each other this way," I but back in. "Do any of you even an excuse? Do you even feel sorry?"

And that did it, that sent them into their own little self-involved bubbles, but I'm not going to let them. I look at Glen first, since he stands up and throws his napkin onto his empty plate.

"How about you, Glen? Do you have a valid reason for hating your sister? Do you _really _believe that it's okay to blame her for being gay?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he says.

"No? You blame her 'gayness' for breaking up your family. You told me as much not two hours ago."

He gets quiet and I look over at Mrs. C. "And you, you hate her just for being gay. There's no other reason. What's next?" I gesture to Clay. "How about black people, Paula? Are you going to start hating Clay for something he can't help any more than Spencer can? It's only fair..."

Clay, dependable as always, says, "It's true, mom."

"It is," Mr. C adds.

She leans back in her chair. "You have no right to lecture me about family, Ashley. As you said, you left without so much as a backward glance, very nearly wrecking my _gay_ daughter's life, I might add."

I swallow my anger and Spencer looks at me from across the table. "Ash, they aren't ready."

I look back at her. "You think I am?" She gives me a sad, half-smile in understanding. "There's never a good time, Spence."

Paula continues. "How sweet. She may forgive you, Ashley, but I don't, and I won't. I know you're not responsible for everything, but you certainly played a huge part."

I breathe in deep and nod slowly. "You're right, I've done my share of damage, but I'm here, right now, asking you to forgive me, to let it all go, to let things be right again."

This time it's Christine who speaks. "It's not that simple, and you know it, Ashley." Her dark, severe eyes pierce through me like a spear. "You just left, without a word, like no one mattered to you at all. And for four years..."

She's breathing heavily and I can tell that she's trying to keep it all in, keep it all down, but I don't want her to.

"The first time you ran away, you left a note," she continues. "You had enough respect for me to at least tell me what was going on and why. But last time..." She shakes her head.

"I didn't know what to say to you..." I look around the table. "To any of you."

"How about a goodbye at least, or maybe a phone call once in a while: 'Hey, guys, I'm not dead," Chelsea mocks.

I close my eyes. "I didn't want to have to explain. I wanted you to just hate me."

"So what's the problem, then," Glen asks as he raises his cup in salute. "Wish granted."

Kenzi reaches for Glen's glass but a freshly changed Madison intercepts it and gives him a scathing look.

"Glen," Mr. C takes the wine from Madison. "You've had enough."

"That's rich coming from you, Arthur," Mrs. C says.

"You don't really hate Ashley or Spencer, Glen. You're just angry at life and want someone to blame." Clay says.

"Whatever," Glen shrugs.

"Not everyone can be the golden boy like you, Clay."

Spencer and I stare at each other over the table and listen as they all continue to bicker back and forth. It lasts for several minutes before it starts to really get out of hand.

What does out of hand entail?

Well, Mrs. C just said, "I think we should get divorced!"

Somehow, everyone keeps arguing over that declaration. Spencer starts to sob, and I want to put my arm around her, to comfort her, but the table between us might as well be miles. Besides, Carmen's there, stepping in and doing what I'm not allowed to do.

The anger in this room is smothering and I find myself absorbing it for all of the possible reasons: I can't be in love with or touch Spencer; I can't go back in time and choose to stay; I can't force Christine to forgive me; I can't force acceptance from a religious mother; and I can't help a brother grow a functioning brain.

Why can't they all just stop their petty grievances, endless grudges, and pointless bigotry? Why can't they just forgive and move the fuck on?

I should have known that apologizing and trying to explain would mean nothing. But I had a moment of naiveté. Spencer made me believe that it was possible because all things are possible with her. She's that amazing.

But her family isn't like her. I opened my mouth and now, this is my fault, again. I started this fight.

Wait a minute, I started this fight. So, I can end it...

"HEY!"

It doesn't work.

"HEY," I try again and still no result.

I pull in as much air as I can hold and really bellow it out this time, only I choose my words more pointedly.

"I'M DYING!"

That did it. All but Kyla and Mr. C look over at me in shock, and the baby starts to cry. I get to my feet.

"When I left, I was supposed to die, but I didn't, and I'm sorry for that. But the bright side is: I still might."

"Ash," Spencer says. "You don't mean that."

"No, I do, Spence. I'm sorry I lived long enough to see this." I gesture to them. "It doesn't matter though. It was stupid to think that things could be better."

And with that, I leave the room, the house, and find myself in what used to be my room cramming everything into bags. Some might consider it running, but I don't, or at least it doesn't feel like running. It feels like I'm just moving on, maybe even moving forward.

Just like the list, there were some things that weren't going to work out, and I knew it. I had prepared myself for that inevitability. This attempt at family is just one of many failures I'll endure in this endeavor. Granted, it's the biggest of all of them, but I'll survive it, at least for another twelve months.

It doesn't take long to pack when everything is carelessly stuffed into any available space, and before I know it, there's nothing left to do except actually leave.

I stop to look around me, trying to find that part of me that can't fathom the thought of leaving, but I just can't. This isn't my home anymore. I've known it for two months, but I'm only just now able to let it go.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

My heart lurches in surprise and I turn to find Christine standing in the doorway, looking extremely defeated. I slump down on the bed and stare at her.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone. I thought it would be better that way."

I can see the anger in her eyes as she trains them on me and I sigh. "Yeah, you don't have to say it. Spencer and Kyla have both made it very clear just how much of a dumbass I was."

"I _do_ have to say it, Ashley."

Um, okay... She steps into the room and I brace myself so that she can let some of it out.

"Do you have _any _idea what it's like to love someone, to call them daughter, to raise them, to feel just a little bit better about every day because they're in your life, only to have them disappear without a word?"

I could say yes to all of the things that she's mentioned but one: Kyla never left without a word. Everything else I get. I raised my sister and she made my life better; she always has. But she never left me like that.

And if she had...

No, I can't fathom how much that would hurt, how scared I'd be to think that she was out in this terrifyingly violent planet alone.

"Do you have _any _idea how petrified, how utterly panicked every second of every day has been?"

I want to say something, to at least acknowledge what I've done to her, but my tongue feels like cotton and my throat feels completely kinked off. I can only stare at the floor with swimming vision and let her get it out.

But then she's not talking anymore, and when I look up at her, I see something that I've never seen in all of the years that I'd spent with her: she's crying. It's so unlike her. And yet, here she stands, laying it all out in the open in a rare moment of vulnerability to the very person who's proven themselves undeserving of that level of trust.

Just the fact that she's crying makes tears start to leak down my own cheeks.

"I don't know what I can say, Christine, other than I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to handle the situation."

It's quiet for long moments before she finally asks, "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

I blow out a breath and rest my face in my hands. "I knew what happened with your family before."

She gazes at me incredulously. "I found the stuff in the attic," I explain.

She nods and swallows hard. "Christine, I didn't want you to go through that again. I thought..."

I lift my hands in surrender before letting them drop to my thighs with a slap. "I just thought that running away would be easier on you."

I lift another hand to stop her anger. "I know, _believe_ me. But knowing I was wrong now doesn't change why it happened then."

Christine comes over to the bed and sits down next to me, her posture stiff but this is the closest she's been to me since she hugged me two months ago.

"I suppose that there would have been no easy way in that situation. Either would have been excruciating."

She looks over at me, her eyes softer than I think I've ever seen them, even as a child. I can't help but smile through my tears. It feels so good to have gotten something out of her, to feel just a little less unwanted.

"I missed you, Ashley."

"I've missed you too, Christine."

She puts an arm around my shoulders hesitantly at first, but then it gets easier and she tucks me into her side, and I find myself in a hug that doesn't make me feel so self-conscious or awkward. It's comforting and it feels like maybe one of those holes inside of me is shrinking just a little bit.

She holds me for a long time before she finally says, "Stay."

I lean back and grimace. "I... I can't."

She seems crestfallen, so I take her hand. "Hey, it's not because I don't want to. I just have to do some things this year, but I'll come and visit often. I'll even fly you up to my place a couple of times."

She nods, smiling a little, but then it falls. "Is that... how long you...?"

I clear my throat. "Honestly, I don't know. I go in for a major check-up at the end of next year." I shrug. "So that's all I'm counting on."

She squeezes my hand. "I want to be with you."

I put my other hand over hers to hold it tighter. "I'd like that."

It grows quiet again, and I finally ask, "Did you throw it all away?"

She seems confused by that question at first before looking at the room and giving a bitter smirk.

"I wanted to," she says, "But I just couldn't. It's in the attic."

I close my eyes and shake my head at the silliness of it all. Of course, just like her other family, just like all of the things I don't want to deal with, it's all in an attic. Maybe we all have one, whether it's physical or proverbial.

And it will be a long time before I ever visit either of those graveyards, if at all.

"So what now," I ask.

She grins at me. "I'm thinking we find a twenty-four hour Denny's or something."

I chuckle and get to my feet. "Let's go save Kyla."

And with that, we leave the room, and I feel a little piece of my regret wither and die, leaving me a tiny bit freer.

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	17. Chapter 17 - Auld Lang Syne

**See part 1 for disclaimers.**

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**This is the end of this book. I've decided, due to length, to split it up into two. I hope you enjoy! If you do, or you don't, please give me that feedback.**

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**Chapter 17 - Auld Lang Syne**

It's an unbelievably breathtaking night. The air is laced with frost and the sky is deep and dark. But who needs the stars when they have the twinkle of grand cityscapes scaled in infinite pin-dots of light? Who needs the moon when they have the globe of time honored tradition hanging overhead?

New York...

I always wanted this singular experience where the old year dies and gives way to the new. And some might find it to be too cliché or conventional, but I wanted that feeling, that rush, that fragile hope that maybe the slate could be wiped clean - that maybe for just one night I could forget the past and the dangers looming in the future.

I know that it's just a ball of lights in the grand scheme of things, but sentient beings find sentimentality in even the most trivial of things, things like a hoodie or a glance or a touch or a photo. And time, the passage of it, the fact that my eyes still have sight and my heart still beats, well, it's obvious why it's so much more than just a ball to me.

Right now, in this moment, I'm surrounded by flamboyant celebrants, everyone dressed to the nines and packed together like sardines in a sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and merriment. And I realize that, for whatever reason, for whatever purpose, I'm still alive.

I don't know how I really feel about that fact, but only if for the night I refuse to overanalyze it. I'm just going to let it be. I'm here; I'm healthy, flushed from the crisp champagne and lower winter temperatures, but I'm utterly well.

So completely well...

And it's all because for the first time in a very long time, I don't feel alone.

I spent the last few days in Ohio with Kyla and Christine getting reacquainted. And I found that once the elephant in the room had been addressed, things became so much easier.

I was finally able to just relax, to allow myself to be part of the family. And that's when it became clear to me that all of the suffering that I'd endured over those two months had been my own doing. If I could have just spoken with Christine, made an effort to explain, things would have been so much better.

But I couldn't. I was too afraid, afraid that I was beyond reproach. I didn't believe that she could or should forgive me because, in so many ways, I still can't even forgive myself.

And so to compensate, I was keeping her at a distance, forcing her into a corner, demanding that she be the first one to risk her heart even when I'd made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions that I didn't want to be there.

But that wasn't the truth. I _did_ want to be there. I did want to make it right; I just didn't know how to let that happen. Spencer had been right: I needed a safety net, and without one, I just couldn't risk it.

But then I found myself at my breaking point, frustrated and hopeless and trying to walk away but unable to do so. How ironic that for once walking away was the right thing to do and I just couldn't do it. I'm thankful though, because if I had, I wouldn't have found a way to repair that bridge to my past.

But it's on the mend, and I'm not alone.

Who could have guessed that a terrible Christmas from hell could give me so much to look forward to?

I'm no longer alone...

I realize that maybe it's not entirely fair to have felt alone. I've had Shirley and Sam nearly from the start, and then Kate, and Jac and Jon for over a year now, but each person that comes into my life has their own place, their own meaning, their own space to fill in the puzzle.

The missing pieces from my past were deeply steeped in history; those connections were specific. The memories and inside jokes had been inked onto my heart, and nothing short of the real thing could ever fill those gaps, no matter how much I appreciated the new additions.

But now, now I have both.

I'm not alone...

Perhaps alone is the wrong word. Perhaps I'm no longer so segmented, so perforated, so fragmented. Maybe I just feel their presence more because they had been so achingly missing.

They're not missing anymore…

I like the sound of that.

If I look to my right, there's Kyla, my sister, a sister that I'm still very angry with. I still feel like she coerced me into going to Ohio just to throw me to the wolves, or wolf, as it were. We had a descent few days before leaving for New York, but since I shut her down on Christmas, it's been jilted.

I just can't understand why didn't she stand up for me more? Why didn't she try to include me? Why did she shut me out knowing that it was hurting me?

I don't have any of the answers to those questions yet, but as she looks over at me and smiles so fully that it lights up her chocolate eyes, I can't help but grin back at her. All of that is on hold for tonight, a night where it's all about the celebration of longevity.

I'm alive, and they're not missing anymore.

The atmosphere, the energy of this place at this moment is magnificent, even as I can't hear over the incredible roar of the overanxious crowd. I've always adored city life, and while LA is my home, my lover...

New York...

New York may turn out to be my mistress.

Just beyond Kyla is Kate, easy and relaxed as she just takes it all in. I think that's one of the things that makes our friendship so easy: her ability to just let things roll off of her back. She doesn't stress, aside from her stage fright. She doesn't yell or get overly emotional. She's quiet and shy and a touch naïve, but she's impossibly patient and unfailingly kind.

In fact, she optimizes the cliché surfer persona. It's everything about her, from her golden tan to her white, easy smile - from the straight, sun-bleached hair that falls into her eyes to her nonchalant agreeability. If she weren't so smart, she'd easily double as Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

If I look to my left, I see Spencer, her expression relaxed and open, her eyes hooded, her smile bright like a beacon, and her hair tumbling past her shoulders in gentle waves as she happily sways her streamer stick.

She's nothing like Kate. She's bubbly, girly, slightly obsessive compulsive, and fairly demanding. But still, somehow, the two of us just click. If she were anyone else, I'm not so sure that we would mesh so seamlessly. But as I look at her, _really_ look at her, as my heart thumps harder, I can't help but wonder if the reason that it worked was because she is everything that I'm not.

And she's beautiful…

In fact, there is nothing in this world that can rival just how gorgeous she is both inside and out: no city, no natural vista, no starlit sky or maudlin memory. If I went blind right now and her face in this moment was the last that I would ever see, I could go happily.

It's so obvious that she's in her element here, and that may just make her even more beautiful if such a thing were possible. New York was her home for four years, her college experience, the haven that gave her the safety to lick her wounds in peace, the very place that she met Carmen and found the will to move on with her life.

God, she awes and inspires me. She doesn't give up, even when she should. No, she bends when she should break. I envy that about her. I wish that I could be more like her, or at the very least, borrow some of her strength.

It's a strength that I need desperately, and there are immediately apparent reasons for that need. One of them is Carmen standing next to her, just as relaxed and comfortable in this environment. In fact, I'd say that she's bored and unimpressed.

I know that this is nothing new for her either, but I can't help but feel that part of her disinterest is due to the fact that we're here because of me. I don't know how many of our trips she plans to tag along on, but does she have to do it so grudgingly?

She glances over at me and gives me a tight smile, pulling Spencer snugly against her side with a possessive grip.

I get it; I really do, and I know that I'd also be nervous and jealous of sharing Spencer with someone that I perceive as a threat. But Spencer isn't someone that deserves distrust. She's the most honest person that I've ever known, and also the most loyal.

Spencer loves me. She will always love me. There is a place in Spencer's heart that no one will ever be able to occupy but me. There's no way around it. I was there first.

No one else will ever know what it means to run away with her and shout injustice to the sky.

No one else will ever know what it meant to me to be there for her when she was first discovering herself.

No one will ever know what it was like to touch her for the first time, to give her that first unquenchable taste of passion.

No one will ever know what it was like to be there for her when her world was falling apart.

Those pieces of her are mine and mine alone.

They always will be.

And in that same way, no one will ever know those same parts of me.

No one else will know these lonely dreams that haunt me.

No one else will ever know my regrets.

But I robbed Spencer of the chance to be there for me when _my_ world was crumbling down. I pushed her away and killed the one thing I was even living for.

There aren't words for that regret. And this is why I don't understand how Carmen can't see that she has a place that I will never know. She was the first to be open and honest, to give Spencer all of herself with abandon.

She was the first person to be patient and diligent.

And as much as I hate it, these are things I can never get back; these are pieces of Spencer that weren't stolen, but carelessly thrown away.

They, Spencer, are Carmen's.

She's won the war, no matter how many battles I own.

And these thoughts want to depress me. They want to own me and destroy me like they've already destroyed so much, but not tonight. I can't go there tonight.

Why?

Because when Spencer smiles at me something warm tingles in my very viscera. Somehow, despite it all, I'm here with my closest friends, some pieces lost while others are restored. And even some are a new shape entirely, but they still fit together.

And I don't want to ruin it like I do everything else. I just want to pretend tonight.

"Holy shit," Jon screams over the noise of the crowd in front of us as she bursts through excitedly, Jac hot on her heels.

These two – I want to shake my head at how utterly absurd they are, even as much as it's the very reason that I keep them around. Jon is wearing a tall, felt, red-and-white top hat with huge golden glasses that exclaim the new year.

Jac is sporting similar glasses, a fluffy, rainbow colored fur coat, and she has a black and white horn that, despite its small size, makes a god-awful amount of noise. And she's blowing it like a sack full of queers.

Elton John would be so proud of them…

"Taylor Swift is up there," Jac exclaims excitedly as she jumps up and down.

"So fucking hot," Jon says in that cocky, overly certain way of hers.

My face screws up at the thought. I've never been a Swift fan, but I definitely dig blondes. I don't mean to, but I glance over at Spencer before tucking my hands in my pockets and scolding myself. I have to stop that. I can't keep thinking those things about her.

Even over the excited cacophony, Jac startles the shit out of me when she throws her arms in the air and screams, "Riley!"

I glance over and see two girls making their way through the bodies towards us, and find myself doing a double-take. The one called Riley has those boyish, baby-faced good looks just like Jon. Her hair is short and sort of shaggy, and it falls in her eyes when she gives a nod of her head as if she's king shit of fuck mountain.

"Sup," she says, giving me the once over as she throws an arm over Jac's shoulders.

I glance at Spencer out of the corner of my eye to see her trying unsuccessfully to swallow her laughter at how I was just blatantly eye fucked like a piece of meat.

I spurn the open appraisal and ignore Riley, but I also determine to keep an eye on her. I hope that Jac is just looking for a fling. The arrogance nearly oozes out of Riley's confident posture. And yet again, I'm reminded of Jon.

Speaking of Jon, Riley's friend has introduced herself as Sarah and she's hanging all over Jon like a limpet. And fuck help me, reminds me of Jac.

She's smaller, more petite, and more feminine as she leans up on her tip-toes to say something obviously naughty in Jon's ear. Everything about her appearance screams shy and reserved, just like Jac. But everything else, from the way that she smiles slowly, to the way that she plays her fingers in the hollow of Jon's throat, gives me the impression that once she's done copulating, she eats her lover's head.

And honestly, that's just how Jac comes across. She does it on purpose, even when it couldn't be further from the truth.

I find myself kind of staring at the two couples in wonder, though I'm not even sure why.

About this time the energy in the crowd kicks up a notch, and we find ourselves gazing up at the giant screen at the corner of Broadway and Seventh to see that thirty seconds has begun to count down.

Shouts and bells and whistles fill the already pregnant air to bursting as the numbers on the screen descend, the ball starting its slow trek downward. And as we draw closer to those last ten seconds, it feels like the very atmosphere will explode.

I can't help but shout along and watch as the excitement builds until that last second, but then time suddenly slows down, the noise falling into the background until I can only hear my own breathing.

It's as if I'm waiting for something, or maybe having a panic attack, because just like that, it's over. It's another breath, a heartbeat, a blink, and it's over.

I'm one step closer to a grave.

Suddenly that crisp air feels colder, almost biting, despite the collective heat of gyrating bodies en masse. And for a moment, I almost can't realize where I am. It's like nothing happening makes sense. I feel like I might implode but I'm obviously the only one.

Jon and Jac are each engaged in a torrid lip-lock with their respective strangers, and Kyla is giving Kate a kiss on the cheek that makes her blush.

And I know - I know that if I look the other way that I'm going to see things that I don't want to see. But then I'm one step closer and Spencer has much further to go than I do. And somehow, I know that if I face it, this strange moment of stillness that I've found myself in will end.

So I force myself. I force myself to look her way and watch as her heart moves on, moves further and further away from me. It's a sweet kiss. The kind that's unhurried and practiced. And it would be a lie to say that there is not love in that kiss, even if it's not so intense or passionate.

But maybe that's the way that it's supposed to be.

I used to believe that love has to burn out of control for it to be real. But the older that I become, the more that I'm beginning to believe that heated, desperate, intense love that lasts is rare. Most who experience that kind of love tend to find themselves consumed by its intensity.

But there are those lucky few who find that kind of love and not only survive the flames, but enjoy the warmth.

People like me.

I had that once.

And I believe that Spencer did as well.

And yet there she is giving herself to someone else. There she is being wiser, being smarter, choosing the more temperate path because that's the only way to survive when the fire dies and leaves you alive, scarred but still alive.

And it's for this reason that all that I can believe at this point is that lasting love isn't as enflamed as it is calm. Lasting love is the one that's milder, easier, safer.

I look at them for only a moment, but that image will forever be engrained in my mind, a constant reminder of the fact that for all of the ways that my runaway plan didn't work, it actually did.

Spencer is happy.

My eyes find my feet as the popping sound in my ears rushes the noise back in, and as my breath hitches in my chest with a wheezing inhale, I realize that while New York may be my mistress, my time with her could never last. I long to be back home, in my own bed, away from the commotion of it all.

Out of the fire…

But then soft lips find my cheek and warm breath skitters across the blushed surface of my skin. And I shut my eyes, feeling burned, feeling consumed, even by so little.

Yes, I had that once.

And I think, no, I _know, _that Spencer did as well.

I look over at her as she pulls away and she meets my gaze, smiling as she reaches up to rub the gloss from that part of my face that I may never wash again. I almost want to tell her to leave it, but then I love the warmth of her hand far too much as it strokes my cheek to be indignant.

She's smiling the kind of smile that crinkles the skin at the corners of her eyes ever-so-slightly, and I know that I'm meeting that smile with one of my own, despite the fact that I just want to fall into her arms and cry.

And I don't even know why.

I guess, with her, I'll never have reasons. She defies reason.

And there, for a moment, she knows it. Her face falls a little, and my sadness is mirrored in her. But I can't take it. I hate doing that to her. She deserves to be happy.

And she knows, because she always knows, and she's so easy in that knowledge that she just lets it go, lets me slide, leaves the attic door precariously shut.

"Happy New Year," she says, or mouths, I can't tell over the chorus of Auld Lang Syne thundering around us.

"Happy New Year," I reply just as inaudibly.

And it's hard to watch her pull away and go back to Carmen, but it's necessary. I know it. I feel it. I just can't face it. Besides, the worst is yet to come. Soon, I'll have to face it all.

One year.

And in just a couple of days, I'll be back in Ohio, taking the first step towards fully recovering my life.

I'll be making a stop at the Federal Correctional Facility in Elkton, Ohio to lay the hardest piece to rest. And if it doesn't work, then I'll die trying.


	18. Still Into You Too Continuation Notice

Next book, Still Into You Too, posted at 2015/04/09/796/.


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